Kyle fluffed his feathers and stood up gracefully. "Time to shine." He whispers happily. "Time for me."
"You ready?" Tweek asks from the doorway. Kyle balances on his heels and smiles.
"Always." Their leotards sparkle in the dim lighting, feathers brushing against each other. Kyle's outfit is green and done like an essay. The two link arms and Tweek smiles up at his friend, blue glitter making him sparkle like a jewel.
"You're going to do great, Kid." He says fondly.
"Tweek, I'm six months older than you."
"That's unimportant. Here we go." They turn and stand in the back of the stage. Girls, costumes every color of the rainbow, hustle and move over the wooden platform.
Music, happy and spicy floated in through the cracks in the velvet curtain. Cigarette smoke and high class perfume wafted through the air like a second skin. Tweek disappeared and Kyle kept walking, taking his place on the stage, right up front. Wendy tapped him on the shoulder and handed him his mask. Kyle slipped it over his head and breathed through the ribbons that floated in front of his mouth. "Showtime." Bebe calls.
"Let's hit it." Tweek cheers. "Come on, ladies; let's give them a show that will make their wives hot under the collar!" The curtain lifts and a familiar song comes on.
Her name was Lola,
She was a showgirl!
Kyle moves just like he's been taught, legs bursting out when he sees someone look like they're about ready to get up, showing flashes of creamy white thighs.
Music and passion are always the fashion!
He smiles indulgently, barely noticeable under his mask, eyes scanning the room. Kyle winks in the direction in front of him and nods softly when he sees several men point to themselves and mouth "me?" Little does he know there are two pairs of eyes watching him, one soft blue and the other dark brown. Stan smiled dreamily and leans forward chin in his hand as he watches Kyle dance. He shines like a star and twinkles just as bright. Feathers swing back and forth as his leg kicks out and Stan loves the way he moves, beautiful and elegant. He has never spoken a word to the dancer, ever. He is a bartender and Kyle is a dancer, they don't mix. Sighing with his heart about to burst, Stan sits up and goes to make a rather large man his drink, sliding it down the table and taking a secretive swig of gin before going back to watch the dancers, eyes on Kyle.
Cartman clutches his glass, tense as the dancer in green shoots him another sultry look. The little tease, he thinks, eyeing the brief, lovely glimpse of thigh he is given. The song, some irritating little disco tune, finally finishes and the sparkling dancers climb off the stage, chattering with each other happily. He adjusts his pin-stripe suit and coughs into his cufflink. The one in green stops to help another in blue climb down, bending over to untangle his cramped foot and offering a shy glance at a round bottom. Dancers swarm over the happy men, offering drinks and taking orders. The one in blue hugs the other dancer and takes off. Kyle stands up and brushes imaginary lint off his outfit. His eyes and cheeks ache under his mask but he doesn't dare take it off. He can hear Tweek laughing with Bebe and he decides to take a trip to the bar, craving a drink. Stan and Cartman's breathe hitches when Kyle makes his way over to where they sit. "Hi." He smiles sweetly at the bartender, frowning in confusion when the man seems to swoon. "Um…yeah. Can I have a margarita please?" Stan swallows audibly and nods shyly, ducking his head.
"No problem! The drink I mean, not that you're a problem of course! I'm sorry; let me go get your drink." His eyes are green, Stan thought in a daze. How had he not noticed such a lovely shade of green? Much darker then his outfit and much, much more sparkly. And his hair! Stan had always knew it was red, but it was brighter under the neon lighting of the bar signs and curly, instead of straight like he had originally thought. Baby hairs frame his forehead and Kyle constantly swipes at them, pushing his vibrant peacock feathers to the side. Stan drops a tiny umbrella into the drink and hands it to the dancer, smiling. Cartman swigs down the rest of the alcohol and waits for Kyle to speak. Instead, the dancer looks content to swirl an umbrella in the liquid, humming Copacabana.
"Well ?" He asks finally, impatient. Kyle looks up and starts as if he is surprised to see Cartman there.
"Well what?" He questions, setting down his drink.
Cartman briefly wonders how he can put this without seeming cheesy. "What are you going to do?"
"About what?" Kyle looks weary and Cartman runs a hand up his thigh, smirking. Kyle shivers at the cold feeling of diamond rings scraping along his skin and tries to edge away.
"I've seen the way you look at me, and I'm tired of being teased, boy."
"Kyle." He snaps. "My name is Kyle."
"Kahl, then." Cartman snorts, rolling his eyes. He digs his thumb into the smooth juncture of bone and Kyle yelps, hand flying out to slap Cartman across the face. Cartman feels his eye twitch, and stands up, noting with a strange satisfaction that he is larger than Kyle could ever hope to be. He raises his hand and brings it down. Stan grabs the object nearest to him and smashes it into Cartman's face, watching with slight horror as glass shatters into his cheek. He drops the end of the bottle and lunges over the bar table, punching the other man in the throat as they tumble to the floor in a screaming heap. Stan punches and kicks as much as he can, digging the glass into Cartman's face. He is fighting for Kyle, for his Kyle. Feeling desperate, Stan tries to wrap his fingers around Cartman's throat, realizing that ever so slowly; he is being overpowered by the heavier and stronger man. Cartman struggles up and reaches blindly for a chair, hefting it up with all his might. "Say goodnight, motherfucker." He spits, slamming it down on Stan. The man screams in pain and writhes in a pool of his own blood, crying out. Kyle covers his mouth and screams along with everyone else, too afraid to move as the chair is brought down again and again, until it is smashed in two.
It takes Kyle only a moment to understand the dying man is calling out for him.
He rushes forward as Cartman collapses on the floor. He cradles Stan's head in his lap and sobs when blood slips between his thighs. Stan smiles brokenly and reaches up for him. Kyle allows his face to be groped and closes his eyes against the unfamiliar touch. "Why? Why, you stupid, stupid man?" He asks brokenly.
"I love you, Kyle." Stan says gruffly. "I love you this much." He motions towards his broken body.
"We've never talked before tonight." He whispers. Guilt floods him. This man was willing to die for him, willing to kill someone else for him, and Kyle didn't even know his name. Discreetly, he brushed away the blood on his nametag. Stan…
"But I love you." He says mildly, looking into Kyle's eyes.
(Dark green, who knew? Much shinier then his outfit…)
His fingers tug at the mask and Kyle rips it off, feeling Stan start to slip away. "You're going to be fine he says, just fine." He's trying to convince himself, not Stan. He needs to know he didn't kill this man, this stranger who claims to love him. He's not gay, Kyle and Bebe both know that but he swears to God that if Stan lives, he'll do whatever the man wants, give whatever Stan wants of him. Stan's fingers close around a peacock feather and he holds it to his heart, relaxing at its touch. Stan wondered briefly why he wasn't terrified. He was going to die and he was going to die soon. He had only celebrated his 26th birthday last month for God's sake!
But strangely, Stan doesn't mind.
Sure, he's dying, but at least he's going out with a bang. He died for Kyle, for his love and that's more than enough. How many nights had he stared at this beautiful dancer and wished for a conversation, for just one single touch? Yes, he was dying, but he was dying with Kyle holding him. He had protected Kyle, he had saved him and Stan knew he was going to die a happy man.
Just a few more things and he will be ready to go.
"Cartman?" Stan slurs, eyes closing. "Did I get him? I need to know you'll be safe." Kyle spares a glance at the other man. His breathing is raspy and uneven and he is bleeding heavily from his face. If he doesn't die today, he will be scarred until the day he does and beyond, just as ugly outside as he is inside.
"Yeah, Stan. You got him."
Stan smiles and nods. "Good. One more thing. Could you do me a favor, Kyle?"
"What's that, Stan?"
Anything, anything and everything for you, just hold on.
"Kiss me?" Kyle freezes. That's an unholy act and Stan knows that if the crucifix around his neck is anything to go by! He doesn't want to be the reason the man burns in hell after saving his life. "Please, Kyle, just one kiss. Who am I going to tell?" Kyle closes his eyes and presses their lips together, smoothing the blood over chapped lips with his tongue. Stan closes his eyes as well and moans, in ecstasy despite his pain. Kyle tastes lovely and Stan knows even if he is sent to the devil, he will never regret loving this man. "I love you Kyle!" He calls as his vision fades out. He cries at the loss and struggles to find him. All he can hear is rushing water. "Kyle? Where are you? Kyle?" Then there is a voice in his ear, sweet and smooth like honey.
"I'm right here, Stan." Kyle promises. "I'm here, right here." Stan relaxes and breathes in the smell of Kyle-
(His Kyle)
And sinks beneath the waves that pound in his ears.
"I love you, Kyle."
"I love you, too, Stan."
"Forever?"
"Forever." And so Stan Marsh dies, unaware that the greatest moments of his life were a lie.
Ten minutes later, Kyle is dragged away by the paramedics.
Three weeks later, the cabana club is closed.
Two months later, he is thrown into jail for homosexuality.
Two months, three days later he is bailed out by Tweek Tweak.
Three months, four weeks, Eric Cartman commits suicide by overdosing on the medication he was taking for his face.
Three months, four weeks and two days later, Kyle buys every mini-umbrella from every store he can and fills his room with them.
One year, four months, two weeks, one day and thirty minutes later, he drags every umbrella to the grave of Stan Marsh and plants them like little flowers.
Two years, one week later, Tweek Tweak is killed in a drive-by shooting, the gunman missing his intended target, Kyle Broflovski.
Two years, three weeks later, Kyle breaks into the abandoned club and waits until the clock strikes twelve.
Two years, three weeks, one day later, Kyle Broflovski is dead.
Three years, four weeks, nine days later, he is found wearing his old outfit, feathers stained with blood, leotard ripped but still sparkling, mask tied around his face and little umbrella in his hand.
He was 27 years old.
Because Stan had stolen something the day he had died, he had stolen Kyle's heart and left the boy to swim in his guilt for the rest of his short life. Maybe Stan hadn't meant it; maybe it was a subconscious reaction. Stan wanted to be missed. He wanted Kyle to know who he was. In a way, Stan had saved Kyle, but in a way, he had killed him as well.
(Kyle looks brokenly at Tweek. "He loved me and I had to wipe away blood from his shirt to find out his name! Why would he do something so stupid? You know what I hate the most? I would have been fine! Security would have dragged Cartman out and everyone would have been fine.")
(Kyle stands at the grave and breaths out, resting the bouquet of daisies on the ground. "I forgive you." He whispers to the gravestone. "I forgive you.")
(Kyle tightens his mask and holds up an imaginary drink, clutching the tiny umbrella. "To you and me Stan." He says brokenly. "Happy fucking us!")
(Drunkenly, high off of pain, Kyle begins to sing into the dark, climbing up onto the stage. For a moment, the lights flash back on and a crowd appears, cheering him on adoringly. Tweek claps him on the back as he shimmies his pale legs. Kyle looks up and meets Stan's eyes. The bartender grins and claps, louder than anyone else. In the dark, he takes a flying leap off the wooden platform, smelling cigarettes and perfume. As he falls, his final thought is focused on getting the final lyrics to Copacabana right.)
In the dark, as he dies, Kyle begins to sing.
Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl
But that was 30 years ago, when they used to have a show
Now it's a disco, but not for Lola
Still in the dress she used to wear, faded feathers in her hair
She sits there so refined, and drinks herself half-blind
She lost her youth and she lost her Tony
Now she's lost her mind!
At the copa-copacabana, music and passion are always the fashion!
And as his eyes open, Kyle smiles against the blinding white light and reaches out to hug Stan and Tweek.