Hi there! This is my first story on this site in several years. I previously had an account on here a few years ago under the nom de plume The English Professor, under which I wrote South Park fanfiction. Now I'm back, and here is my first stab at writing again. When you're finished, please leave me a review, as constructive feedback is one of the main things that help writers to improve their craft.

Happy readings!

TEPR


Kyle was sick at his stomach. A part of him couldn't believe it, yet when he thought about it, it seemed completely natural. Ironic as it must look to anyone else, how could Kyle not be attracted to him? Stan certainly didn't understand it. His best friend had been slack-jawed when Kyle first told him.

"You have a crush on who?!"

"I know. It's crazy, but it's not just a crush. I think I really like him. Like maybe I—"

"Oh god, Kyle, please don't. Don't say that you love him."

But Kyle was certain that that's what it was. At least, that's what it felt like.

"It's true, though. I think I'm in love with Eric Cartman."

Stan put his hands to his face in mock horror. There were no words.

"I know it doesn't make sense. Believe me. I've spent days, weeks, months thinking this over—months, Stan—and I know how I feel. This is real. You of all people should understand that."

"But maybe you're just confused about—"

Kyle's eyebrows shot up, and his nostrils flared. "About what? That I'm gay? Fuck you!"

"Dude, what? No!" He put his hand on his best friend's shoulder. "Of course it's not that. It's just hard for me to believe that it's Cartman. He's such an asshole."

"Dude, I know. But there's just something about him. I can't put my finger on it."

Stan sighed. "You're my friend, and you know I support you, but I don't want you to make the same mistake that you did before." Stan regretted it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"Fuck you, Stan!" Kyle's ears flushed red before he stormed off, a visual complement to his fiery locks.

Stan knew he would pay for that one later.


Stan shook his head as Wendy gently ran her fingers up his leg. Lying down at this angle, with his hands behind his head, he could see down her shirt and noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra. He got a bit hard before quickly dismissing the thought and returning to the matter at hand.

"I just don't understand," he said. "How could he be in love with Cartman? It doesn't make sense."

"Love doesn't make sense. That's how it works."

Stan smiled at his girlfriend proudly. He would never understand how she could be so smart. Everything she said made perfect sense, and a part of him knew he was very lucky to have her.

"Just think about it," she continued. "I mean, you love him, don't you?"

Stan blushed. "Well… yeah, but I mean, not in the same way. I don't want to… you know." He made a crude gesture to illustrate what he imagined gay sex looked like.

Kenny cackled from the corner, where was slouched in his chair, previously assumed asleep. He leaned forward, stretched, and grabbed his half-finished joint from the windowsill, lighting it and reclining again.

Wendy ignored the laughing. "Seriously, though, you would do anything for Kyle, right?"

Stan blushed and looked awkward as his mind wandered.

His girlfriend rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Stan, I don't mean sex. I'm talking about sacrifice and commitment and the bond you feel as his friend. How about this: how do you feel about me?"

Stan felt a rush of butterflies to his stomach. "I love you, babe. You know that." As soon as he said it, something clicked. "Wait… you're saying that's how Kyle feels about Cartman?"

Wendy nodded as Kenny handed her the joint. She inhaled twice before rising, her midriff peeking out from under her t-shirt. "Now you're getting it," she said as she handed the joint back to Kenny and sauntered off to the bathroom.

Stan shook his head. "Dude… what the fuck?"

Kenny flopped onto the floor and scooted over to Stan, inhaling as he dragged his scraggly ass across the carpet. He passed the joint to Stan, who eagerly accepted.

"So you just can't believe he would have the hots for Fat Ass?" Kenny asked, grinning. "It's kinda gross, but to each his own, I guess." He scooted back to the wall and closed his eyes, assuming a meditative stance.

Stan cherished the silence that Kenny afforded him. He liked that he had a friend who he didn't have to be deep with, someone who would be there to just hang out and get high with.

The smoke felt good as it filled Stan's lungs, a familiar comfort to ground him while he felt otherwise consumed by his best friend's antics. He was embarrassed to think it, but he couldn't help but feel at least a little bit responsible for Kyle's behavior.

When Kyle had come over to his house the now-unforgettable afternoon eight months prior, Stan knew something was up immediately. In all of his sixteen years, he had never seen someone as nervous as Kyle looked that day as he floated into his friend's room like a specter, lighter than anything, with an unusually pale disposition and a hesitation that kept him from saying what was obviously on his mind. When Stan had put his hand on Kyle's back reassuringly and suddenly felt a chill run down the other's spine, he knew his friend had something big on his mind. The next five minutes, awkward as they were, had passed in a blur.

The coming out had been the easy part. Stan felt proud that Kyle had told him before anyone else and in that moment was honored to be his best friend. It was during the long hug after, in which Kyle mostly stopped crying and had a hard time letting go of Stan, that he gave his best friend a true shock.

"I'm in love with you, Stan," he had said. "I know that that might be gross to you, and I'm sorry, but that's how I feel, and I wanted you to know."

To Kyle's credit, Stan knew that his friend must have spent countless hours going over that conversation in his head before they actually had it, calculating everything that Stan might have said to let him down easily. What he probably didn't anticipate were the four words that actually did leave Stan's mouth in response: "I love you, too."

As soon as he had said it, Stan felt like a fool, a liar, an asshole. Unable to locate his own best instincts, he had said the thing that he knew would make Kyle the happiest, even if it was a complete fiction. He had continued to play along with his lie that evening, returning first Kyle's long embrace and then later his best friend's first kiss. It wasn't for at least another hour, after they had lain on Stan's bed holding hands that he had finally gathered the courage to right the wrong he had caused.

Stan had never felt like more like a terrible person in his life than he did during those next few hours as he held his best friend close to him and consoled him. Stan had spent his whole life aware of his greatest gift, the ability to make people feel better, and during those hours he felt not only completely stripped of his gift but also that he had deeply let down his best friend in the world.

It wasn't until he felt Wendy's hand slip around his waist from behind that Stan snapped back to the present. "This is all my fault," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"Baby, no," Wendy began, not wanting to revisit this issue again. "This has nothing to do with you."

"You don't understand," Stan said as he quickly stood. "He would never have even gotten to this point if I hadn't betrayed him."

Wendy laughed, stunned. "You're serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!"

"You didn't betray him," Wendy said, elevating her tone to match her boyfriend's. "It's been nearly a year. When are you going to let that sink in? Kyle is not damaged goods, and you are not the love of his life. If anything, you should be happy for him now that he has finally moved on."

Stan wasn't sure if it was the realization that Kyle had found a new love interest that bothered him, or if it was because he knew what evil Eric Cartman was capable of. All he knew was that he had to put a stop to it. With that, he stormed out of the house and got into his car.

"Goddamnit, Stan, no!" Wendy shouted at him as he walked out. After he was gone, she clinched her hands into fists and took two deep breaths before settling back down to the floor.

Kenny leaned over and passed her the joint before retreating again to his happy place.


Kyle knew what he had to do. He shut out the dissenting voices in his head and decided he was going to do this. After all, it was his only remaining option.

He approached his classmate's locker with an air of confidence, trying to mask his trepidation and knowing that this was an incredibly risky move that could ruin his reputation. Since he had so far only directly come out to two of his friends—Stan and Kenny—he was nervous because he was still pretty new to this whole telling-other-boys-that-you're-gay thing. Luckily, Kyle knew that he wasn't the best with words when he was nervous, so he had already written out exactly what he needed to say. It was succinct and got his point across rather effectively, he thought.

It was all over quicker than he ever would have imagined. He approached his classmate quietly, nervously grabbing the straps of his backpack tightly. He smiled, and handed the other boy the folded-up slip of paper before hastily shuffling off to his next class. There, he had done it. Now he just had to wait until after school to see if his classmate would make the next move.


On a scale of one to ten, Clyde concluded, this was definitely an eleven. Granted, the only other time someone had had his cock in their mouth, it was Bebe, and she was a little too toothy for his taste—not to mention that she seemed like she had been doing it purely out of obligation to her boyfriend. Unfortunately for Clyde, that "relationship" had only lasted about three weeks, and he had not had sex of any kind with anyone else (other than himself) in the five months since. It was perhaps because of this that the unexpected blowjob he was currently receiving from Kyle Broflovksi was pretty fucking spectacular, all things considered. Sure, he was completely straight, and the thought of two guys kissing was actually pretty disgusting if he thought about it, but there was just something about running his fingers through those curly locks that made the gay part of this a-okay. Bonus: if he closed his eyes and imagined it was a hot chick instead of the nerdy kid from his history class, it was that much better.

It must have taken Clyde nearly a minute to recover from what was arguably the best orgasm he'd ever had in his life. When he opened his eyes, he noticed Kyle standing sheepishly a few feet away, looking disheveled and embarrassed, running his fingers through his jewfro like a comb.

Under normal circumstances, Clyde would have bolted. It was weird enough being alone with a fag in his bedroom; it was even weirder being in a fag's bedroom after he's sucked your cock; and it was really, really fucking weird when you couldn't stop staring at the picture of the fag's parents smiling at you—creepily, knowingly—from his desk.

However, Clyde reasoned, these were not normal circumstances, and coming off the surreal high of his recent orgasm, he said the only thing that made sense to him to say: "Dude, that was fucking awesome. I gotta let you do that again sometime."


"What. The. Fuck." Eric was having a difficult time processing what Stan was saying.

"I know? Isn't it crazy?!"

"Fuck Kyle!" Eric fumed.

"Exactly. Fuck Kyle!" A part of Stan felt really conflicted, but he knew this was the right thing to do. He didn't care that he was lying to Cartman, but there was always that small chance that something would backfire, and he'd cause more harm than good. That had been happening a lot lately, Stan noticed, especially in matters regarding his best friend. Wendy had pleaded with him not to butt in here, but he just didn't trust Cartman to act like a decent person. He knew that if Kyle told Cartman how he felt that Fat Ass would ridicule him for the rest of his life—or, at least for the rest of the school year. Stan was not prepared to watch his best friend in the world have his heart broken again; this time, he was going to do everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Eric slapped his strong hand on Stan's shoulder. "I appreciate the heads-up, bro. Now I know just to ignore Kyle when he starts his bullshit with me."

Stan smiled, albeit a bit weakly. "No problem, man. I got your back." With that, he departed. He took a deep breath, hoping he had made the right decision.

Eric was thankful when Stan was gone. He needed a few minutes to process his thoughts. First of all, he was shocked that Kyle would make up a story about being gay and being in love with him just to fuck with him. It was like a punch to a gut. Eric hadn't told a soul that he was… different, and he couldn't help but think that somehow Kyle had figured it out, and this was that asshole's way of rubbing it in his face. If it had been anyone else, it wouldn't have been so bad because he could just shrug it off and continue on with his life, but the fact that it was Kyle hurt him. His feelings for Kyle were deep, and he had wanted his friend in a romantic sense since he first came to terms with his sexuality in middle school. There were other boys whose bodies he could appreciate, but it was Kyle and only Kyle who he wanted. Now that Stan had told him about Kyle's plan to humiliate him, he felt utterly defeated.


It had been a bizarre week for Kyle, to say the least. Luckily, it was Friday, and he hoped the weekend would bring him solace after Clyde paid him another visit that afternoon. He wasn't sure what the future would hold for him, but after his awkward confrontation with Eric Wednesday before school, he had done the first stupid, self-destructive thing that came to mind: he had decided to fool around with the boy in school who looked most like Eric to maybe somehow make his love interest jealous. He had known it would be a shot in the dark after the surprisingly hateful things Eric had said to him, but he hadn't completely lost hope—not even now. After all, it had been a weird encounter. The moment that he approached Eric, nervous and probably visibly shaking, Kyle noticed that the other boy was already on the defensive. That much had been evident by his body language. In retrospect, it had taken Kyle completely by surprise.

"What the fuck do you want, Jew?" Eric had asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

"There's something really important I need to tell you, and I would like to talk about it in private if you don't mind," he had meekly piped up.

"I know what you are, and I know what you want. You're fucking sick, and I don't want to have anything do with you, you slimy asshole."

And with that, it was over. Even though he wasn't too surprised by the end result, he hadn't been prepared to hear those awful things that Eric said. He didn't know how the other boy had found out about him, and honestly, he didn't really care. Now that he had been rejected by both of the guys he had fallen for, Kyle didn't particularly care what happened.


"Shit. Shit. Shit." Stan repeated the mantra as he drove way too fast along the windy South Park back roads, Kyle's Facebook message buzzing through his mind on repeat:

Dude, I feel like shit, and you're the only person I can really talk to about this kind of stuff. I just wanted to apologize. You were right: I shouldn't have said anything to Cartman. It went really terribly, so I'm fooling around with a guy tonight—probably not the best thing for my mental state right now, but I just feel crappy and don't really care. Anyway, sorry to be a downer. Things are just kind of lame right now. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow? I would like that.

Despite the casual tone of the message, Stan had felt incredibly guilty when he read it because he knew that he was at least partially to blame for this. Sure, Cartman probably would have been an asshole to Kyle anyway, but because Stan had involved himself, his conscience needed to be cleared. Of course, Wendy's reaction might have encouraged him in that direction…

"You did what?! Stanley Marsh, you should be ashamed of yourself! Of all the selfish, manipulative things…" She had gone on like that for at least five solid minutes. Stan had partially blocked the exchange from his memory, but he could fondly recall when Wendy threw the ashtray that Kenny had been using to extinguish his cigarette butts. Of course, she hadn't missed a beat and kept on yelling as she stomped out the ashes on the carpet. God, he loved that girl.

Right now, though, he had one goal. At Wendy's insistence, he was going to tell Cartman the truth. He knew it probably wouldn't do any good, but at least it was something. He braced himself for the worst as he walked up to Cartman's door and knocked. If he had arrived under less urgent circumstances, he might have noticed that it seemed his fat friend had been crying when he opened the door.

Instead, Stan proceeded as planned: "Dude, there's something I have to tell you."


Things had quickly escalated in a manner with which Kyle was not comfortable. Before Clyde arrived, Kyle had had a change of heart and prepared to tell his classmate that while he really enjoyed what had happened between them the other day, he thought it was a mistake and just wanted to remain friends, and maybe Clyde could even keep the whole thing a secret?

Unfortunately, Clyde had other plans. Unbeknownst to Kyle, ever since his heavenly blowjob two days prior, he had been unable to think of anything except Kyle. Not in a gay way, of course. He just knew that he had somehow stumbled upon something very valuable and that he couldn't let it go, at least not until he found a girl who would put out for him regularly.

Needless to say, he was annoyed when Kyle said he wouldn't be doing him any favors that night. There was something about the whole thing that pissed Clyde off, and he was going to get what he wanted, no matter what he had to do to get it.


For perhaps the first time in his life, Eric Cartman was speechless. Even more unusual, he found himself running as fast as his legs would carry him—a rare occurrence, to be sure. It was only three blocks to Kyle's house, and he wanted to get there as fast as he could to apologize and let Kyle know how he really felt.

When Stan had arrived on his doorstep, it was as if an angel had descended from heaven and given him a second chance to be a better person, to be happy. However, it was partly because he was annoyed at Stan for lying to him and partly because he wanted to see Kyle immediately that Eric did not remain in Stan's presence long enough for his friend to explain the situation in full. Had Eric known that Kyle was currently sexually preoccupied with another boy, he likely wouldn't have climbed a ladder to Kyle's bedroom (even after all these years, he had not broken that habit) to discover the boy he loved about to be raped. Fortunately, though, he had done this, and it was with all his might that Eric pushed open the window and landed on his feet, finding the strength in him to slug Clyde twice in the face.

It all happened so quickly that Clyde was not sure what was going on. All he knew was that his nose was gushing, and an unusually menacing Eric Cartman was to blame. Normally, he would have stuck around and settled the score, especially knowing that he could easily take Cartman in a fight, but he was so spooked knowing that someone had caught him in bed with another boy that the shame propelled him from the Broflovski house, a miniscule trail of blood marking his ephemeral departure.

For many reasons, Kyle was glad that his family was not home that evening, despite the fact that their presence would have likely prevented him from nearly being raped. However, all thoughts of Clyde and the other Broflovskis immediately left him as he was surrounded by the warm embrace of the other boy in the room.


"You are an idiot, you know that?" Wendy said, shaking her head and chuckling.

Stan's cheeks flushed as he buried himself in the restaurant menu, not yet wanting to retrace his moronic steps in front of his best friend and girlfriend.

"Oh come on, dude, you can't hide back there," Kyle said, jerking the menu out from in front of him. "Even you have to admit that what you did was pretty fucking stupid."

"Yeah, yeah," Stan grumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, what was that?" Eric asked loudly so that no doubt the whole restaurant could hear. He sat down in the booth beside his boyfriend as he returned to the table. Kenny soon followed, his jacket musty from the spliff he had just finished outside with his friend.

"If you must know," Wendy said, "we were just discussing how sometimes even the best intentions don't make for great ideas." With that, she lightly socked her now beet-red boyfriend in the arm.

"Well, I guess I can't be too mad at you, asshole," Eric said to Stan as he snaked his hand behind his boyfriend's neck. With a hitherto rarely seen touch of warmth and vulnerability, he added, "This has been the most amazing month of my life." He then leaned over and gently kissed Kyle on the lips.

At that Kenny let out an exaggerated eww, and Eric punched him on the thigh playfully. Wendy smiled, and so did Stan, internally beginning the process of self-forgiveness.

Kyle prepared to speak but then stopped. He knew what he felt but couldn't properly articulate it, so he didn't. The moment passed, and they ordered a pizza. The evening went on like any other, but things were better now. Kyle saw stars dazzling boldly and brightly, and it was magnificent.


Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story, and I welcome all feedback—complimentary and constructive. As those of you who have been on this side of things know, writers thrive from and love feedback, and I am no different. Thanks again!

Best wishes,

TEPR