Author's note: I love my Beta (Thank you, Kris). This is a very serious story, and it was inspired by two very inspirational people. I hope that they live healthy and happily together as wife and wife. I want you all to take into account the people in your lives and never regret anything you've done or said with them. Remember to acknowledge them and tell them you love them before every departing, because you never know if you'll see them again.
Serious author's note was serious.
Disclaimer: I'd do Matt and Trey just to own one minute of the show.
--
South Park engulfed in troops. The town is slowly being demolished as the war continues.
The earth had stilled itself to make way for the humans and their pathetic strife. Houses collapsed slowly as they were engulfed by the fire that leisurely made its way through the city, possessions no one cared about left behind to die. Who cared about possessions when immortality was in the palm of their hands? They wouldn't realize the difference between invulnerability and true immortality until they sat in the empty abyss of purgatory. Then again, they probably wouldn't comprehend anything until they were granted access to heaven, or sent to the pits of hell.
One soul stood, missed by the ammunition fired in every direction, amongst the rushing men.
--
The lighting in the room, bleak from the clouded morning sky, only hindered any conversation between two young men. It had been uncomfortable and dreary the following days as their normal routine seemed to rapidly change. They sat parallel to each other at a small metal table that had off-white linoleum tiles covering its surface. Nothing but a newspaper and a cup of coffee sat on the light plane between the awkward pair.
The air would stir slightly with their infrequent movements. Every now and then, the mug would be brought to a pair of pouty caffeinated lips. The red-haired boy would let his soft, pale fingers sift through the morning newspaper in hopes of finding an article worth reading. The lips had no appetite for coffee and the eyes had no interest in the paper. It might have been the letter that came in the mail for Stan that effaced his appetite. It might have been the front page headline that effaced Kyle's concentration. It might have been the storm that was brewing.
Denver overtaken! Congress declares war!
Mayor McDaniels sends troops to assist allies!
Enemy plans to siege South Park!
Kyle already knew what lay behind the morning sunrise as he spent the last night with his lover. Stan didn't mention that he had been drafted to fight in the war; he didn't have to. He hadn't gotten into college so it was painfully obvious that he would be drafted. Fortuitous intellect had landed Kyle easy into the highest-rated university in the country. Though, in light of fate's newly dealt hand, he began to second-guess that presupposed fortune.
After breakfast Stan tried his hardest to rid any tension that had made its way between the two of them. Although his plan to cook a special lunch fell through when a large pot fell on his head, it did succeed in removing the awkwardness. Both Stan and Kyle ended up on the floor laughing insanely. It was almost sweet enough to admire as the continued to laugh in each other's arms; each laugh contagious to the other boy.
The day was spent a little more special than normal. The day was warm and sunny with very little racket outside, the two decided to lie on the hammock that hung on two large trees that stood in the backyard. They did nothing but enjoy each other's company. Of course, that consisted of kissing and talking, but it was more sensual than per usual. Each kiss felt like a first. Each word echoed the heart. They were happy, and that's all Stan could want.
Kyle's happiness was more important to Stan than his own, so he did his best to hide the thoughts that would creep into his mind like a wave on the beach. He'd tell himself it was for their own sake. To spend his last days happily, and to have his lover be happy—he couldn't ask for anything more.
As the heated air began to cool off, and the sun sank behind the mountains, the two retreated indoors to warm themselves up and start dinner. Once more, cooking and eating together, the mood between them began to change. Granted, there was a half empty bottle of wine and the satisfied stomachs involved, they had zilch to do with the arousal that had slowly escalated since that afternoon and peaked the moment they landed in bed extremely naked, and completely hard.
As they lay and kissed, Kyle made his way over Stan and quickly began to tease the light brown nipples on his chest. His slender fingers slowly made their way into the tight passage of his dark haired lover. They prodded and groped the heated sensitive flesh inside the younger boy that lay under him quivering. He grinned with lust-glazed eyes as the cock before him stood hard and glowing from the light that seeped in from the window and door.
Essentially, it was quiet in the room, excluding Stan's heated groans and lusty pants that Kyle's talented fingers enticed. As much as Kyle wanted to dive straight in and immersed himself in the heated cavern, he wanted to make this last as long as possible. However, the seams began to tear the moment he pressed his lips to a pale, sharp pelvic bone. The skin was so unbelievably soft.
He crawled up the body slowly, his lips haphazardly pressing against the soft skin before he straddled Kyle's stomach. It wasn't until he pressed his lips against the dark-haired boy's that he pressed his aroused member into the moist heated cavern.
It was long and passionate; sweet to every extent, emotionally exhausting for the both of them, but fuck, it was great. As they both reached their climaxes, Kyle swooped down for one more kiss before releasing his seed into his lover. "God, Stan, I love you."
Calloused fingers reached to press back locks of red hair—"I love you, too, Kyle"—his fingers running to the base of the elder's neck before pulling him down into another kiss. So much.
Kyle's heart shouldn't have broken like it did when he woke up alone later on that morning.
--
It wasn't but a few weeks later when Stan was stood amidst fighting soldiers that felt like gods. The ability to take one's life was in the palm of their hands, and they were absolutely indestructible, or so they felt. Stan felt so terrifyingly human. He stood frozen, unable to use the gun that pointed lazily towards the ground. The loud cracks and booms the shot ammunition gave off deafened his plugged ears making him feel light headed. It was all so surreal, and he was absolutely vulnerable.
Stan looked up at the dark, musty orange sky sadly. He wondered what Kyle had been doing, and if he was already attending his college classes. Was it possible that he had moved on and found someone else? Had he received the letter that Stan sent yesterday morning before he shipped out?
Stan smiled slightly, feeling more at ease amongst the strife. He looked up towards the sky and said, "Forgive me, God. Please don't think little of me. I am still Your child, and I'll believe in You."
He vaguely wondered if he had gotten his shooting skills from his uncle, because every target he aimed for went down in moments. Stan no longer felt the nauseous and disgusting as his bullets quickly penetrated the skulls of men no older than him. It was almost empowering to have such control, but he refused to let it get to his head; I am not God.
Time began to blend. Regardless Stan couldn't be sure how long he had been out there, it mattered little. He was no longer saddened or ruled by the power. He was numb and the only thing that mattered was finishing this war so he could return to his lover. This resolve, too, left the moment he saw a grenade drop into a group of his comrades. His legs moved swiftly with an enormous amount of power before he threw himself onto the grenade. He vaguely heard them calling out his name as they tried to escape, "Don't, Stan! Run! Just run!"
"I'm sorry."
--
Dear Kyle,
This will be sloppy, sorry! I just wanted to say sorry. I should have told you that I had been drafted, even if it was obvious. I just wanted to spend my time with you without the sadness and stress. You probably know that already. I don't regret not telling you (even though it was awkward for a while), but I'm sorry you woke up alone, and will for some time. I'll come back home, soon! So don't move on just yet.
If you do find someone else while I'm gone, make sure they're better than me, all right? I want them to make you happier than I could. As long as you're happy, so am I.
Remember the first night of the war, when Denver was invaded and the sky began to light up from all the explosions? Even though we knew it was dreadful and saddening, we couldn't help but admire how beautiful the sky was. We held each other as we lay on the roof and admired the apocalyptic-like sky.
That will always be fresh in my mind, and I'll never forget it. It was so sadistically beautiful. The way your cheeks would be brushed with red every time another explosion went off. The shadows that would consume only parts of your face and make your lips look so incredibly soft. Ah, I should probably stop before your ego grows and my... uh, y'know, never mind.
I miss you, and I love you, so fucking much. I'll come home as soon as possible, so wait a little while for me.
Your lover,
Stan Marsh
P.S. I told you it was sloppy!