A/N: Hello, this is Dead Wang Toys from The Love of our Lust. This project was specially crafted for Inspirational Grape Juice and her love (read 'obsession') for a good Style fic.
WARNING: A bit of underage nasty-nasty. Homosexual goodies. And a ton of "The Big Mis" and sad, achy heartbreak-heart wrenching lovey-dovey stuffs. DISCLAIMER:
SUMMARY: Stan moves in next to Kyle three times… expect for the very last time.
…
The Challenge: The Three Times Stan Moved In and The One Time He Didn't
One: Age 13, Summer in Colorado
The story of Kyle's love life started one muggy morning when his mom sent him over to the next-door neighbors house for a cup of sugar. Jimbo's car was still in the driveway, so Kyle sauntered over, and knocked soundly on the mint green door. He gasped when the door was yanked open, and another boy stood before him.
Bright blue eyes were gazing at him expectantly; raven black hair plastered about his sharp features. Combined with the pale skin, Kyle was awestruck at how lovely the other youth was. He couldn't quite form words to think, much less speak. "Yeah…?" the boy said. He had a deeper voice than Kyle, more matured. A natural born leader. His athletic build leaned against the open door, almost invitingly. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah! Yes!" Kyle suddenly blurted, the sugar cup coming up in his hands. He held it out to the boy in front of him. "My mom sent me over for some sugar!"
"Sugar?" the boy asked, a grinning stretching across his mouth, which were bright and colored like ripe apples.
"W-What's so funny?" Kyle questioned, eyes darting away from the boy's lips.
"Nothing," he said, swiping the cup out of Kyle's hands; he was entirely shocked when his heart beat faster at the slightly touch of fingers grazing his knuckles. "Wait here." The door shut harsh making a blast of summer heat swirl around his face. With a sigh, Kyle waited.
He waited a while, too. Heart skipping, and sun beating against his mess of curls... Minutes ticked by, and Kyle stepped back, glancing through lace curtained windows, trying to sneak a peek at the insides of the home. Just then he heard the scurry of footsteps behind the door. Kyle panicked, straightening when the mint door swung open a second time. There was the raven-hair boy, cheekily grinning.
"Here!" he said, thrusting out the cup, small sprinkles of crystalline sweetness plinking to the ground. Flushing, Kyle snatched it back, muttering his thank you, and dashed down the porch steps. The other youth hollered out to him, "Hey wait!"
Kyle didn't. He just rushed back home, and stayed cooped up inside for the next week, uneasy with this strange kid he never noticed before. The next time he saw the mysterious boy was when his mother called him downstairs. Grumbling, Kyle left his room—the attic he had cleaned up by himself in order to have his own private space—and trudged to her at the front door. With her hands on her hips, she nodded to the black haired youth, explaining, "This is Mr. Jimbo's nephew. He is staying over this summer. Why don't you keep him company?"
Kyle should have said, "No, I don't want to," but all that came out was, "Sure." Then, his mom pushed him out the door, and Kyle and this boy went out into the sweltering early afternoon.
Squinting, the blue eyes glanced over to Kyle. "When do you go back to school?" he inquired.
"August 25," Kyle answered automatically.
"That's so close. We'll have to make the rest of this summer count," the other declared.
And they did. Everyday after this encounter, the raven-haired boy took Kyle outside to be roasted in the heat. They raced bikes, ran in the park, lit fireworks in the abandoned quarry, or camped out in the nearby mountain range. At night, Kyle lazily contemplated their adventure for the next day. It was almost… magical.
Kyle was smiling constantly, laughing, and indulging himself by pouncing and wrestling against this other youth. It was a good summer. The best, in fact. But as they say, all good things must come to an end.
"Damn, this sucks! So, you're going back home after tonight?" the redhead asked, perched on Jimbo's doorstep with the other boy. They were eating cartoon shaped ice cream from the fabulous Ice Cream Truck that drove by everyday about four pm.
"Yeah… Mom and dad finally settled their divorce issues," he said, "Their getting back together."
"That's good," Kyle pointed out, licking his treat slowly. Blue eyes were watching him intently. Kyle felt uncomfortable, squirming like he was an earthworm that couldn't find its way back into the safety of the dark underground. "What?"
"I had an idea! Wait here!" he demanded. His companion jumped up, darting into his uncle's house. Confused, Kyle glanced back, catching hurried pleas echoing behind that iconic image of the mint door. After a moment's pause, came a triumphant cry. Next, the black haired boy scurried out, tackling Kyle in a hug. "He said I can spend the night at your house!"
He came over for supper, and after tricky delegations on Kyle's part, his mom agreed that his friend could spend the night. Excitedly, the two boys ran upstairs—Kyle showing off his amazing attic bedroom to the dark haired one.
They were joking with each other, playing silly games, daring each other to do stupid things. After several loud giggling sessions, throwing objects at one another, Kyle's dad came in to tell them lights out. They cautiously agreed, readying for the night. As the other boy went to the bathroom to change, Kyle placed his own sleeping bag on the floor.
"What are you doing?" the raven asked when he returned to see Kyle settling into the sleeping bag.
"Well, as a host, it's only polite that you have the bed," he explained. The dark haired boy was hesitant, staring at Kyle peculiarly. Then, with a shrug climbed into the bed. Both covered themselves, closing their eyes for sleep. The other boy was getting comfortable, or trying to. He kept tossing and turning, which only irritated poor Kyle, who was already a light sleeper. "Dude, what's wrong?" he muttered, turning to see the other boy sitting on the edge.
"I dunno, your bed is like… lumpy or something, I can't sleep on it," he sighed loudly.
"What are you, a princess?" Kyle taunted, rolling over.
"Yeah, you wish!" the raven teased, throwing a pillow at Kyle. Quickly, Kyle swatted it away. The other boy grabbed his pillow, tossed it next to the redhead, and then proceeded to hop down to the floor. "Now, move over. I'm sleeping in there with you."
"Whaaat?" Kyle said, squeaking indignantly as another body shimmied inside his sleeping bag with him. "Hey!" The body next to him brought in warmth, and gangly limbs became entangled with other limbs. There was a spark of something hot and electric rushing through Kyle at the mere touch. "Its too humid to sleep in the same bag. Plus, I haven't used it in years. We're too big—"
"Shut up," the raven murmured.
He had buried his face into the crook of Kyle's neck. Arms wove around him, and instantly, the redhead quieted. The other boy was breathing, and the crickets were chirping. All there was to see with was starlight sneaking in from the owl hole. Puffs of dark hair were in Kyle's vision, still as the summer air. Everything was except for a naked hand running up Kyle's side. Kyle shivered, a noise leaving him. The hand continued its path, touching in a way that was as imposingly certain as it was awkward.
The dark haired boy shifted, one leg moving in between Kyle's own. The Jewish boy hitched a breath, waiting for something. The older boy stirred, his mouth moving across Kyle's perspiring skin. Kyle shut his eyes tight, the feeling ticklish making his stomach squeeze in anticipation.
The dark haired boy bunched Kyle's shirt up with his one hand, then struggled to get it off. "Lift up," he said hurried. Kyle did, and soon the worn fabric of his nightshirt grazed over the tip of his nose. The shirt landed with a soft thump in the corner of the attic somewhere. With steadier hands, he returned the favor, grasping the thin wife-beater and pulling it over the dark head.
Sweating chests were pressed together, and then, chapped lips. A leg was rubbing against Kyle's lower body, playing against the prepubescent organ. Kyle wasn't old enough to understand what was happening, simply that it was happening. He had been growing, and his body was doing strange things on its own, and this time, his penis grew stiff again, startling him.
"Ah! Wait! I—I—" Kyle said, pushing the raven up. He turned his face away, ashamed, hands moving down to hide himself. The other boy smiled, embarrassing Kyle further.
"No, its okay," he explained hushed, "That's suppose to happen. It means you like it."
"I… Are you sure?" he asked. His friend grinned, sitting up, and pulling down his own boxers. Similar to Kyle, the other boy's member was standing on its own, straining.
"See?" he whispered. Kyle nodded, unable to take his eyes off the other boy. "Do you want to touch me?" he asked, waiting patiently. Kyle nodded once more. The raven maneuvered, his organ bobbing slightly as he did so, and sat across Kyle's stomach. Gulping, Kyle brought himself up to his elbows, one hand reaching out.
He took hold lightly at first, afraid to hurt the boy above him. The boy made a sound, biting back, and Kyle let go. The other boy shook his head, grasping onto Kyle hand, holding it against his penis. It was smooth, damp, and unyielding in his palm. Then, ever so slowly, slid his hand down the boy's length, pulling the flesh. The black haired boy panted, bending over Kyle.
The noises were strangely making the redhead gleeful, and he continued touching the other boy. It was a powerful surge of knowing he could make another human like this… bringing them something intimate and, assumingly, pleasurable. His friend was so beautiful like this…
"O-Okay, stop!" he suddenly exclaimed, falling back, and the hard organ was snatched away from Kyle's hand.
"Why?" he asked. He cried out in surprise when the raven had take Kyle's own appendage in a tight clasp.
"Because I have to do it to you now," he said. The warm fingers around him twitched, sliding over him in drawn out strokes. Kyle moaned aloud, tossing his head back. It was so surreal. Like he was frying to death, yet he wanted more. Never wanted the touching to stop.
But it did. The other boy let go, and Kyle nearly cried. "Whyyy?"
"Open your legs," the raven ordered. Kyle would have done anything to feel those sensations again, and so he spread his legs eagerly, looking down at the dark haired boy perched close. "Lift your lower back…"
"What are you going to do?" he questioned, peering past his too heavy lids.
"Don't worry, I know what to do," the raven whispered, "I looked it up. You'll like it."
Kyle jumped when there was a sweat-slicked head sliding down toward his backside. Immediately his face was aflame and his spine straightened. He was rising, hands shoving the other boy away, "No! What are you—" But the other was stronger than Kyle realized. His hands were clasped securely and pinned to the floor, and gasping, Kyle fell back, looking up at the wood beams of his ceiling.
"Just don't struggle," his friend whispered. The boy was waiting, his muscles quivering, keeping Kyle down. Though, he didn't need to. There was no real resistance from the redhead. However, he finally figured out the dark hair boy was staring at him. With a sigh, Kyle nodded, turning his face away.
The boy didn't take his fingers away from Kyle's bruised wrists. He just scooted closer, sliding his member closer to a trembling entrance. The mushroom head nudged its way into Kyle, who let out a cry, before biting his lip hard. Blue eyes watched his face, lower body stilling. It took several minutes, but Kyle closed his eyes, breathing in tiny hitches, before nodding a second time. The raven continued on his path, this time, his whole body tense. By the time he was fully sheathed, the Jewish boy was softly whimpering.
"You—You're really…" the other boy couldn't finish his sentence, instead, collapsing against Kyle. He held the redhead to him tightly. Taken aback, Kyle simply placed one hand on the back of the night colored head, and the other came up, gripping a pale shoulder harshly.
"W-What do you do now?" he asked, breathy.
The boy gulped, "Move…"
"Okay…" Kyle agreed, his cheek pressed against the other's cheek.
So, the raven pulled his hips back, Kyle shuddering, a noise somewhere between a mewl and a wince leaving him. When the raven slammed back in, the redhead yelped in surprise and a flash of enticing pain. At first, he was sloppy, panting and diving in, flesh beating against other flesh, and Kyle's penis smothered between their bellies. Then, unconsciously, Kyle's pelvis was moving against the darker boy. They built a hectic rhythm of desperate and naïve movement.
Sensation built and built. Sounds of out of breath groans and whimpers of desire. The feel of hotter than desert skin and beads of sweat. A taste of salt-water taffy. Heavy smells of musk. And soon… too soon, Kyle reached the apex of this journey, clutching on to the boy above him, pressing his body to the raven. The slippery and rough tug of inner muscle stretching and retracting, while his outside is being squeezed and abused in the most contracting loveliness.
In a flash and splash of white, he is thrown over the edge, tumbling down, howling delightedly. The raven nearly chokes, head thrown back, and Kyle is, too, sticky. Exhaustion hits him the punch in the gut, and his lids are fluttering down. The strange thought that he has died passes through his mind like a ghostly white noise.
If he has died, it wasn't a bad death.
The raven has his arms locked around Kyle, body atop of body, but Kyle can't find any compliant about the extra weight. He likes being squished, he vaguely admits. The other boy is trying to catch his breath, and the blue eyes look darker, half hidden by blacker than ash lashes. Kyle can't even lift a finger, even though he feels quite messy.
Somehow, his friend knows, and places a hand down, wiping curiously at Kyle's numb thighs, the back of his hand then scrubbing over their stomachs. The raven licks a finger, experimentally tasting the mix. He offers his hand to Kyle, who sticks out a tongue, deftly catching a drop of the solidifying nectar. Laughing at the face the redhead pulls, he quickly finds the nearest article of clothing and cleaned off his hand.
Both of their are hearts returning to normal pace, lying beside one another in a cramped sleeping bag. The raven on his side, one arm thrown across Kyle, and Kyle's face toward the raven. "You're leaving tomorrow."
"I'll be back. I like you," he said, solemn and pitch low. Kyle couldn't stop smiling.
"I think I like you too," he paused for space of a breath and then tilted his head up, lips grazing the other boys. Wasting no time, the mouth pressed over his with a firm force. Both pulled back, taking a gulp of air, nervously giggling to themselves. They settled in, the raven hugging Kyle to him much like a stuff animal. "When are you coming back?" Kyle inquired, yawning. The raven copied the yawn, eyes hidden behind pale lids.
"Next summer," he said, "You'll wait for me, won't you?"
"Yeah… I can wait 'til next summer…" the redhead murmured, closing his eyes as well. Slumber captured them in a net of silver moonlight and heart shaped oak wood, whisking them away to dreams of future summers and ruts in the forests of leaf-green and sunflower-yellow.
The morning Kyle awoke, the spot next to him was empty, still sweaty. He gasped, turning around to leap to his feet, but soreness, like a vivid reminder of the previous night, trapped his body to the creaky floor. He laid there, the pain thudding dully and deviously, as the sunlight trickled over him. A few hours later, after much daring stretches, Kyle managed to limp his way down to the kitchen.
His mother was busy washing dishes. She turned, noticing the grimacing Kyle in the doorway. "Attic floor wasn't too comfy?" she asked sympathetically, "I'll give you some pain reliever later. Have something to eat."
Kyle remained silent, eyes sweeping the empty room. His mom busied herself by grabbing a box of cereal and some milk. Once she placed it on the table, Kyle hobbled over, climbing to his normal seat sullenly. He pathetically whined as he sat down. As she put down his favorite green bowl, she sighed. "I'm sorry your friend left so early. He told his uncle he'd be home before 7:30. He had a plane to catch. You'll see him again."
"Yeah…" he agreed, glancing up. "Yeah," this time there was a smile attached to the word, "I'll see him again."
"What was his name again, sweetie?" she questioned.
Kyle opened his mouth, then quickly shut it. "He… never told me his name…" Kyle realized in all the fun they had over the summer, the boys had forgot to be properly introduced. It never occurred to the Jewish boy at all. The agony in his backside became strangely more pronounced at that moment. "I'm so stupid!"
"Oh, honey!" his mom soothed, patting his back, which made him wince, "You'll learn it next summer."
Only… Kyle didn't. His father transferred to another law firm in Seattle seven months later, and they moved away from their house and Colorado. Jimbo was camping the weekend they left in the big moving truck, so Kyle couldn't leave an address with him. It wasn't until the family was on the freeway, traveling 65 miles an hour that he realized he could have left the new address in the mailbox…
Two: Age 17, Winter in Washington
The Brofloski family technically didn't live in Seattle—Kyle's mother couldn't stand the thought of a big city. So, kindly, his father commutes while Kyle, Ike, and their mom live in a small mountain town about 100 miles east of the law firm's main office. Though Kyle feels bad about the whole situation, his dad is rather accommodating, and the redhead actually prefers the sight of evergreens, gray-blue skies, and wet roads. It is a very cold type of beauty that Kyle realized he had fallen in love with.
Pale, dark, and blue…
It's the middle of the first semester of senior year when a new student is introduced into homeroom. The teacher escorts him in, makes a big show, so Kyle takes out his headphones to catch the last bit of the introduction.
"—moved from Denver. So, do you have a uh… nickname you'd prefer?" The teacher is a middle-aged woman trying too hard to be kind.
"Just call me Raven…" the teen sighs with a gravelly sigh. This new guy—Raven—is tall. Kyle can tell that even from far away. His clothes are too baggy to give an accurate depiction of muscle mass or body type, but they are all black, decorated by punk and Wiccan imagery. Dyed hair and black fingernails. A goth.
"Well Raven, just find an empty seat and sit down anywhere!" the teacher says, giggling in a bemused way.
Scoffing, the teen stalks down an aisle, and the peer group shrinks away. Shaking his head, Kyle puts one earphone back in, and continued flipping through his latest novel of the week. He has barely read a paragraph of spine-tingling horror when he sees a flash of dark colors waving in front of him. Blinking, he sits straighter and looks up. Ice blue eyes are boring down on him. It nearly stops Kyle's mostly adult heart.
"What are you reading?" Raven asks. Rendered speechless, and trying hard not to sound like an idiot, he raises the book cover. A black painted mouth smiles. "Dorian Gray? I like that one."
"Yeah. Me too," Kyle manages to say. Raven sits beside him. The rest of senior year, they are inseparable...
"Whaaaaat?" Raven shouted, starting the forest creatures around them. It was way past spring, but the world around them was still damp, cloudy, and chilly. Kyle was wrapped up in a large, fur-lined jacket, while Raven just wore his raggedy black trench coat. It was bad circulation on the redhead's part, but even so, for Christmas Raven bought him the nice jacket Kyle was currently wearing. "You're leaving the state?"
"Yeah," Kyle said awkwardly, unable to stare Raven in the face, "I applied to a college in Boston."
"You never told me!" the goth said. Kyle shrugged pathetically. Raven paced in their secret hideout. During spring break they had discovered it behind the cluster of their neighborhood. Rarely were they disturbed in this serene spot. They had promised to keep it between the two of them. "So, you were waiting to tell me now—right now—three weeks from graduation?"
"I… I didn't know how you would take it. I know it's shitty—"
"No, it's not," Raven interrupted, brushing past Kyle hurriedly, fists clenched. "It's fine. Just fine."
"Raven!" Kyle called, but the goth was gone, stomping away. Growling under his breath, the Jewish teen decided to let his friend just stew and mull over the information. Honestly, Kyle never meant to hurt the already sensitive Raven… but he couldn't stand to be around the darker boy for much longer. Embarrassing enough that he resembled the young friend from memories he had hoped he put beyond him, but Kyle was starting to fall for him. Hopeless, irrevocably, fall for him. Raven would never reciprocate though feelings.
The gothic youth made himself scarce for the next two weeks… Despite this is what Kyle wanted (distance from Raven) he knew that if he didn't patch this up they would probably never see each other again. He couldn't stand that thought. Caught between that damnable rock and a hard place, Kyle plucked up enough courage to go knocking on his friend's door. His mother answered explaining that Raven went walking out to the forest, taking a bag of things. Confused, he thanked the woman he quickly learned to call his second mother, and dashed off to their secret place.
When he got there, his heart could have shattered.
There was a tent placed up against the huge roots of the sycamore, a small lamp flickering warmth and light inside. From the open flap, he saw a mess of blankets and large pillows, and legs… human legs wrapped over other human legs. A giggle followed by a gasp. Two sets of dark hair came up, one long and luscious and the other messy and dyed to a slightly blue shine. "Oh my god!" the voice of their class valedictorian exclaimed. She popped up from the tent bundling her clothes up, apologizing before sprinting away half naked. The other, just as undressed, smiled.
Kyle steeled himself, shaking his head. Raven just leaned back in the tent, raising a brow. "She likes it rough."
"What are you trying to prove, Raven?" the redhead asked caustically. He felt his face burning and eyes stinging. Raven scowled at the tone, looking away.
"Well, you aren't going to be here, so I though it was a shame to leave such a pretty place a secret," he said. Kyle glared, marching to the prone figure of his friend. Raven glanced up in time to see Kyle's fist rear back. Reflexively, the goth caught it, yanking down Kyle. With an indignant yelp, he struggled, kicking and squirming to be released. Pale, naked skin was pressed down on him, and he could feel the heat sink in past his jacket.
"Goddammit! Let me go, you sonofab—"
"No!" His grip on Kyle was iron tight, and immediately, the redhead felt small and trapped. Raven wouldn't let up, refused to, in that mess of feather soft blankets on the icy forest floor. "No… I… I can't stand to have you leave me… I—I promised myself no one would do that to me again." His unpainted lips were close to his ear, and his hot breath fell across Kyle's apparently hypersensitive shell.
"Again…?" Kyle repeated, almost breathless.
Raven didn't answer. Blue, blue eyes closed, and that mouth barely traced over his delicate flesh, finding its way to Kyle's mouth. Instantly, Kyle was paralyzed, letting too hot lips melt across his own. All thoughts left his mind and his body became a furnace. Parting his mouth ever so slightly, Raven took that as his assent, and a tongue began teasing his. It was like being tazered, every bit of him was shocked by this electrical volt and he moaned, moving up to meet Raven.
Kyle was so lost in the sensations, he could have cried. Raven was kissing him. Those gilded hands were tearing off the very same jacket they picked out just for him… Their breath were puffs of white ice, clashing against each other in between feverish bouts of pressing and pushing mouths. Lids kept fluttering; blue eyes closing and green eyes widening… blue eyes peeking beneath their lace like coverings, green eyes misting, shutting out all other unnecessary senses.
Then, shockingly, came the taste of salt-water taffy.
Memories of sweaty Colorado summers snapped to his mind. Suddenly, Kyle felt a stab to his heart, an honest to goodness hurt. That young summer with his first love. It made the redhead break away, gathering his shaky arms and hiding himself. Raven was immediately withdrawing, frantic.
"What's wrong?"
Kyle's hands were pressed to his face, which was blazing, scorching his long piano fingers. He was trying to choke out words, but tears caught in his throat. He didn't want to stop… all he could think about was Raven before, now pesky adolescent images were skipping like a broken record on the highest speed. Why was this bombarding his brain now?
"Kyle…?"
"I can't! I'm sorry!" he yelled into his palms. It was the most difficult moment he ever had. He struggled to his feet, dizzy and eyes shedding brine, blurring the world around him. Kyle left. Of course he looked back, hoping that if he did, he might turn to a salt pillar so he wouldn't feel so torn. However, he was perfectly fine. If anyone was now statue, unmoving, it was his dear friend. The final image he had of Raven was that look—forlorn, longing—which haunted him long after the plane ride to Boston and still several years after.
Three: Age 25, Fall in Boston.
"There you have it! The dorm, the campus, and everything else," Kyle said with a smile. The freshmen were now giddy, thanking Kyle and dashing off every which way. He just waved, good-natured until the last student was gone. When that occurred he spun to his TA, eyes wide in horror. "Oh my God, Butters! They get even more idiotic with each year!"
The petite blond laughed, shuffling papers into a briefcase. "It is all the new technology."
"Still! You'd think most of them would retain something besides water!" Kyle said. Butters laughed behind his hand, holding out the briefcase. The redhead took it gingerly, sighing. "It is going to be another long semester…"
"How long have you been teaching, Mr. B?" the TA asked, leading the way to the door.
"Ever since I got my AA. I double majored. Currently working on my Masters with online classes," Kyle practically recited the information. His family always asked. His coworkers were nosey. His small group of friends never cared though. That was probably why he considered them friends oddly enough.
"Oh wow! That's so amazing!" the blond exclaimed, bouncing. "I should've done that!"
"Eh," he said, feeling a blush come to his cheeks, "I just figured I should get the most out of my education."
"Still!" Butters declared. As Kyle and he wandered down the twisting hallways to the courtyard the little TA's phone buzzed erratically. He pulled it out, blinking curiously. "Oh, a new student signed up for your English class. The waitlist is officially closed."
"Wow, lucky. If he gets in that is," he amended quickly. The pair stopped under the shade of a large yellowing tree. Kyle never learned the type of plant, but if he were ten years younger he would probably climb it and nap in its cradling branches. In fact, as he glanced up into the autumn foliage, he vaguely noted an outline on a high branch. "What's the name?"
"Uhhhmmm…" Butters was enlarging the picture on his screen while Kyle watched the overhanging limbs creak and moan under stress. Vaguely, the redhead wondered if the person above them should be so careless. This was a new tree, considering the freshness of the bark, and how much smaller it was than its neighboring companions. "Oh! Here it is!" Uselessly, Kyle pointed upward, watching the silhouette tilt dangerously on a leafy branch. It was male, looking down, blue eyes bright in the tall shadows. "Marsh, Stanley."
"Uh, Butters…" Kyle tried. The TA was so busy with the e-mail; Kyle did the only thing he could think of. As soon as he shoved the blond out of the way, a loud crack rang through the courtyard, startling the entire area. Kyle yelped, feeling weight come down on his shoulders 9.8 m/s squared about six or seven times. Needless to say, he lost consciousness rather swiftly.
When he came to, his head hurt, and he was colder than the Alaskan wilderness. Huddling under a thin sheet, he peeked open watery eyes. "Am I in a hospital?" he asked, rather dumbly.
"Yup…" came a bored voice in a lilac colored bed next to him. Kyle rolled his head to the side, seeing another man with an arm cast and head bandages wrapped over messy golden hair. The good arm rose and gave him a wave. Bright blue eyes wiggled brows at him. "Sorry about landing on ya. I was searching for my friend."
"Your friend?" Kyle deadpanned, shivering. "What is he, a bird?"
"Nope, just a regular Joe," he said. He swung his legs over the bedside. There was serious stitching and scars all across lean legs. Kyle stared in awe at the massive pain he must have been through to acquire such remnants on his flesh. The man's good arm ripped off his purple blankets and bunched them up before limping the few feet to the teacher's bedside to spread them out.
"Kenny!" a deep voice yelled. Kyle jumped, mostly not expecting the angry sound, but partly because of the way the sound made his stomach flip. His head whipped about to the doorway, but the golden haired man calmly continued smoothing the heavy wool blankets on the bed.
At the door was another man, tall and very sturdy looking. He was dressed in a dark brown flight jacket and faded jeans. Peeking out beneath a blue and red beanie was strands of ink colored hair. Icy eyes were glaring at the man patting Kyle's now covered chest. "Hey Stan," Kenny greeted lamely.
"Dude, why are you walking around?" he questioned sternly. Kenny pointed down at Kyle, who had shrunk back in his bed at the sudden visitor. "Don't bother your room mate…"
"But," he said with innocent eyes, "I landed on him."
"What?" Stan exclaimed. He rushed to Kyle's bed, wincing. "Oh my God—I'm really sorry about my friend! I had no idea. Are you okay? Do you need me to call a nurse or something?"
"I-I'm good…" Kyle mumbled, sinking under the scratchy blankets.
"Kenny told me he fall out of a tree," he began, then sent his blond companion a frown, "But he neglected to mention landing on someone."
"Well, I was actually gonna fall on someone else," Kenny muttered, glancing away.
"Oh!" Kyle sat up, remembering. "That's right! Butters, my TA!" The Jewish man noted the phone by Kenny's bedside. "Would you mind if I borrowed the phone? I need to call him and see if he's okay."
"MR. BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" came the cry from the hallway. Kyle squeaked when a blond puffball zoomed straight into his chest. "YOU'RE !"
"See, Stan?" Kenny beamed, "That's who I was aiming for."
"Aiming?"
"Err… I mean…" Kenny scratched his cheek embarrassed as Butters went on wailing, unnoticing.
"I'm sooooooooo sorry, Mr. B! I should have been paying more attention!" the TA sniffled into the coarse fibers of the hospital blankets. Kyle just rubbed the small backside awkwardly.
"It's okay, I don't mind," he said. "At least you're okay."
Kenny 'Awww'd in the background while Stand shushed him.
"B-B-But your pretty hair!" Butters whined, sitting back. Kyle tilted his head confused.
"What do you mean, my hair?" he asked. Instantly, one hand came up, going to sift through his unruly ruby locks… only to find air and gauze. Stupidly his eyes darted up, but nothing was waving about in his vision. Butters covered his mouth, realizing his boss didn't know.
"Oh… Mr. B, the tree branches and fall split open your head pretty hard. There had to be staples and stitches and… um…" Butters quieted, looking anywhere but at Kyle. Mortified, he quickly sunk into the blankets.
"Am I… bald?" he inquired useless. Butters nodded.
"It'll grow back though!" Kenny promptly spoke up, hobbling closer to sit on Kyle's bed. "Mine and Stan's did! Right?"
At Kenny's pleading look, Stan nodded, staring unflinchingly at Kyle with his ice colored eyes. "Yeah. We recently retired from the military. Your hair will be back in no time, I promise." Kyle could have been lost in his voice, in his eyes for forever.
"Hey, I'm Kenny."
"Oh? Hi, Butters."
Well, if people were able to shut up for more than a minute Kyle could totally be lost in Stan for forever…
Stan and Butters visited the next few days that Kenny and Kyle had to stay in the hospital. Butters would bring coffee and donuts for everyone, and Stan came by with homework and a devilish smile. The university insisted that Kyle take the semester off with paid leave… but Kenny had to suffer through and try to make up his missed classes. The once redhead thought it was a bit of the universe evening out.
As is with such crippling events, both parties developed rapid friendships (unfortunate for Kenny, but again, universe balancing out). It was even more surprising to learn that the dorm Kyle managed was home to both veterans. More often then not, Kyle treated Kenny and Stan to dinner, Butters tagging along, what with being jobless now.
"So, you both met on duty," Kyle asked over his drink one evening. Kenny was busying gobbling down food, but Stan nodded. "Why'd you both retire at the same time?"
"Oh," Kenny said swallowing down whatever poor animal had been slaughtered on his plate, "I finished serving my time. Vigilantism. Judge gave me the choice of jail or service."
"Nice," Kyle said, shaking his bandaged head. Butters blinked rapidly, apparently trying to process the information. "So, what about you, Stan?"
The dark haired man glanced up from his clean plate, shrugging with ease. "I don't have quite the colorful background," he said.
Kenny pointed his dripping fork at Stan. "Stan's been my buddy since I joined," the golden blond confessed. "Now, I don't know his whole story, but he joined right after high school. His parents were getting back together, for like the second or third time I guess. He wanted some stability, yada yada. The main reason though, he had a deep emotional scar. Like, the love of his life left him. No reason. Got up and just went away. I met him after he already made rank, right? Well, that's 'cause he was always putting himself in danger. Stan was all but suicidal, I think."
Kyle just stared, unable to move a muscle as Stan sipped his soda during Kenny's ramblings.
"He asked for the reason I retired, Ken," he said blandly. Sending a reassuring smile Kyle's way, he explained, "They said I had recklessly thrown myself into the crossfire. I was actually shot in the head. Somehow, I survived, but I have some memory loss. I don't remember much of my military training, or my last high school years. So, they had to let me go. I have a Purple Heart though, I'll show you sometime."
"Oh, whoa…!" Butters said. Kyle, however, couldn't find any words.
"I was the reason Stan ran into the hailstorm of bullets," Kenny declared, sounding slightly upset, "So I swore to him that we would come here to Boston to find his lost love!"
"Memory loss, though. I can't remember for the life of me why Boston," Stan said with a sigh.
"That's—That's so sad!" Butters hiccupped beside Kyle.
"I told you, you just gotta find him! Or touch him! Something!" the blond continued. Finally, with a scowl, Stan pushed out his chair and stood abruptly.
"Listen, I appreciate it Kenny, I really do," he admitted, tone strained and blue eyes hardening, "But maybe not remembering is for the best." Stan's dark head was bowed as he left the table hastily. Kyle watched him, feeling his heart pull after the poor man. Kenny was shaking his shaggy head.
"That's just 'cause he doesn't want to remember," Kenny grumbled, suddenly not so hungry.
"Well, I don't think that's a bad thing," Kyle suddenly shot back with venom. Both blondes turned to him. With heating cheeks, Kyle got to his feet serenely, purposely walking after Stan. He tried not to think that he only said that because the idea that Stan was looking for some past lover was a bit more than disconcerting. The whole affair was less than desirable. Searching for a lost love…? How… lonely.
For Kyle at least.
"Hey, Stan, are you alright?" Kyle asked as he left the restaurant. Stan was leaning against a pillar, staring out into the dimly light and dry night. Leaves were rattling in the wind. A leaf, like a red star-shaped snowflake, broke away from the lines of the trees. It traveled past the two, bouncing its way along the winding black river that was the silent street.
"I like these kind of nights," Stan whispered. Kyle glanced up to the poor man. He wanted to reach out and grab his hand, hold it close… feel his heartbeat. It was an odd notion. What would it solve? Stan wouldn't feel better. Kyle certainly wouldn't.
"Are you lonely?" The words came out before he could stop them. Rushing, spilling forth like a broken dam. It was humiliating to Kyle. A question to be laughed at. Who could ask such an intimate thing so recklessly, so impulsively?
But Stan answered, just as recklessly, "Not when you're with me…"
"What does that mean?"
"I don't remember him… My lost true love… because I don't want to think about him. How awful of me. If I did find him, he probably won't love me back when he found out I made myself forget," Stan thought aloud. His head tilted back, and those wondrous blue eyes closed beneath lashes the color of ash.
"Well, how selfish of them for leaving!" Kyle defended, and suddenly, he grasped the lapels of Stan's jacket. Blue eyes popped open, astounded as Kyle dragged him closer to his green eyes. "Fuck them! You have a right to forget about them. They should be so lucky they even had you for a brief moment."
Stan had a look on his face that Kyle couldn't decipher. His ice orbs were darting about, taking in every detail, before finally blinking owlishly. A small, almost cautious grin was playing on his face. "Why are you angry?"
"Because you're stupid," Kyle mumbled, letting go roughly of the surprisingly soft jacket. He went to rubbing at his thinly clothed arms as a breeze shifted direction. Scoffing, Kyle turned his back to the blowing wind, "Self-pity is such a turn off…"
There was the brush of fingertips skimming the ruffled bandages on his head. "You need a hat, Mr. B. You keep shaking."
"It's just the breeze," he said, ignoring the goosebumps from the light touch. Suddenly, a hot hand captured his wrist.
"Come with me," Stan demanded. He dragged the weak and shivering Kyle to the nearest store, lights a welcoming glow in the fall weather. It was just a little outlet, struggling against the big businesses, but it looked inviting. So, the raven strolled through the couplet of aisles, eyes scanning intensely for something.
Crossing his arms, and waiting off to the side, Kyle was avoiding mirrors. He'd rather not see his circular, small head on his already twig like body. In his opinion, he looked like some kind of a cancer patient. As he pulled off balls of lint from his orange sweater, Stan swaggered back to him, holding something behind his back.
"I found one," he said mischievously. Kyle simply raised a skeptic, auburn brow.
"Okay," he said holding out his hand.
Stan tsked, "Close your eyes!" With a heavy sigh, Kyle squeezed his eyes tight, not quite sure why he was going along with this… There was a warmth that encompassed him, plush fur tickling his cheeks. Stan's steady figure was right behind him, guiding him. Then, he murmured, pleased and rumbling, "You can open your eyes now."
It took a moment to go from black, no light, to a faded fluorescent yellow spot light that seemed focused on him and Stan. That's what he was looking at. A large, oval mirror was tipped up, reflecting the image of that tall and built man cradling the slim body that was Kyle's. For a second, he couldn't remember why he was looking at himself, when the only thing that sparked his interest was the happy, confident look on Stan's normally stoic face. "You like?" he asked.
That was when Kyle noticed the jade colored hat. It was sort of like a winter hunters' hat.
"I… Actually," Kyle said, tripping over his words, "Yeah."
"It matches your eyes, you know," he said softly. Kyle turned around in those strong arms, falling perfectly into place in Stan's hold. "I think I've always liked green eyes…" A breath away from each other, a salty sweet breath. As Kyle's lids flutter down, Stan bends, letting lips meet. It's a blissful second Kyle treasures.
Then, leaping back as if struck by a heavy object, Stan clutches his head. Kyle doesn't react immediately, he's too dazed, but Stan collapses. That was when Kyle, in a strange calm, fumbles with his phone and dials 911.
Kenny and Butters meet him at the hospital. They stumble into the waiting room, hair disheveled and clothes askew. Kyle doesn't bother asking them what happened, he simply couldn't handle whatever their answer might be. It takes what has to be eternity, but after Kyle bit down three fingernails to the quick, Butters sweetly left to find a nurse to obtain any information. The ex-militant furtively swept his knowing baby blues to Kyle.
"What happened?" he questions. Kyle doesn't want to speak—especially not to Kenny, and not about this subject. Suspecting, the blond gives him a shrug, "Well, I tried. You can stay here and wallow. I need to call his parents… and probably his Uncle Jimbo, too. He's been worried since Stan got back to the States."
Kyle stiffens, brows crinkling. "Jimbo?" he parrots. There was something about the name that struck him funny. Kenny's already sauntering down the hall, and Kyle sits up, running through the list of names he has came to know in his lifetime. Butters returns to find him in that contemplative state.
"I like the hat, Mr. B," he points at the adornment like a child. Kyle's thoughts are broken, and he looks up to see Butters helpful smile. Sighing, Kyle nods and stands like he had aged a thousand years. "You look tired…" Kyle wants to say he has felt tired, but nothing comes out. He merely looks at Butters, on the verge of frustrated tears. Finally, Butters blurts out, almost guiltily. "The nurse said Stan's awake and he wants to see you!" Kyle eyes light up, but the TA holds up his hand. "The nurse said no."
"What?" he shouts. Butters clasps his tiny hands over Kyle's mouth.
"Shhhh! Are you trying to get in trouble?" he asks. Kyle glares down at him. Shaking his fluffy head he releases Kyle. "Don't ask how I got it, but here is the key for the elevator. Swipe it on the scanner and go to the fifth floor. His room is 520, Bed B. Hurry before they notice." Butters pushes Kyle toward the chrome doors of the elevator and bangs the 'UP' button in a successive flurry. When they ding open, he ushers Kyle inside. "Good luck, Mr. B!"
As Kyle presses the 'CLOSE' button and runs the card over the scanner, he remembered where he had heard the name Jimbo before. The ride to the fifth floor is too fast, or maybe the memories still leave Kyle unstable, and he has to wait with bated breath for the elevator to level itself out and open the doors. Then, he shoots down the first corridor he can find. Speed reading the directional arrows, he eventually finds the right room.
Stan's door is closed, and at first Kyle's about to falter. Clutching the key card his hand, the plastic pinches his delicate palms. With a growl he kicks open the door. "I gotta know!" he cries. A dark head jumps to attention, and the lean body follows.
"Kyle?" Stan questions, astonishment evident, but clearly happy.
"Twelve years ago did you spend the summer in Colorado with your uncle Jimbo?" Kyle asks fiercely, stalking to the edge of the hospital's violet bed. Stan blinks, unsure how to answer.
"I… twelve years ago…? I would've been about 13-14. So—" he stops suddenly, face flaming and his gaze averts. "Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?"
"Because ever since that summer I haven't had one single night of peace! I've looked for you so long, and after years of torture, I finally—wait, did you call me Kyle earlier?" the teacher inquired. Stan nods, blue eyes wide. "But… I never told you my first name."
"I know. I remembered it," he said. Kyle cocked his head to the side, confused. Smiling sheepishly, the dark haired man explained, "It's been years, I know, but it's me. The goth you left in our secret place…"
"Raven?" Kyle asked, leaning down and inspecting the blue eyes looking at him.
"How did you know about my summer in Colorado? I never told anyone, not even you," Stan said. Covering his mouth to contain the laughter, the redhead's knees buckled and he fell beside Stan on the bed.
"Oh my…!" through tears Kyle smiled at Stan. "How stupid! When I left you, it is because I was still pining away for a boy I met in Colorado. He was visiting his uncle for the summer. I never learnt his name and moved to Washington before he could come back. The night before he left, he and I, on the floor of my attic bedroom—"
"You? You're that boy I met in Colorado?" Stan exclaimed, his blue eyes dancing. Kyle nodded, wiping away his tears. "I thought I would never see you again… Oh my God. I can't believe it. I have to explain—" Stan turned to Kyle, but before he could speak one more word, Kyle jumped him. His green hat falling behind…
One More Time: Age 29, Spring in South Park
It took a while, but the boxes were all unpacked, and Kyle flopped on their new bed smiling, accomplished. He breathed in the fresh linen smell that was the crisp sea-gray sheets. The taste of salt-water taffy found him, as did Stan's arms, embracing him from behind, nuzzling into fiery curls. "Hey, how do you like your new place?"
"Our new place," he reminded. Stan chuckled, holding onto to Kyle, whispering…
That's right, ours.