The overwhelming vibration of his nerves let him know the bottle of whiskey he had hidden in the bottom of his desk drawer was doing its job.
It didn't count, he told himself. Not as long as there was a reason behind it. Still, there was always a reason for Stan, and maybe, that was why she left.
No, not maybe. It was the reason, or at least, a huge part of it.
Swishing the bottle around in his hand hazy blue eyes watched as the dark liquid climbed up the side only to crash back down into the center.
A beautiful representation of how he felt inside. All his emotions, thoughts of worthlessness, all crashing down on him.
Reminding him, that he is nothing but a failure.
Another burn trickles down his throat as the memory places once again in his head.
"I'm sorry Stan," her voice was as sweet as it was when she talked to their daughters. "I don't love you anymore." He knew that. They hadn't loved each other in a while, if ever. Their marriage should have never happened in the first place, but when Wendy got pregnant shortly after they graduated school they decided they would make it work. He couldn't even make that happen.
Now, here he was, alone, broken, and lost.
The words, call him, creeped into his mind. He shook them off. How could he call Kyle? It had been at least 8 years since the two had last spoken to one another. Right after Stan had found out Wendy was pregnant again. For years, he wondered if it was something he had done, but eventually caulked it up to Kyle moving on in his life.
After all, Kyle, unlike Stan was successful.
Fingers found their way through a greasy black mane. "Why would he want to talk to you?" Stan grumbled to himself.
Another drink, then another, until the bottle was empty, his mind was gone.
OoO
Kyle groaned, awakened by the blaring noise of his phone ringing. Who the fuck was calling him? It was like three in the morning. Rolling over, he grabbed his phone and answered it without even looking at. "Hello?"
"Yoouhh, yoouh, annswer me," Slurred speech, Stan's voice, all enough to cause the groggy red head to sit up in his bed, squeezing his eyes shut hard enough for vivid colored squares to come to life.
"Stan, do you know what time it is?" Kyle asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He learned years ago that giving off any kind of tone that Stan could take as an attack would just make matters worse.
He could hear a gag on the other end of the phone, followed by a belch, then a short shuffle. "Whhy do's pehpole leave me Kyle?" Kyle paused, in all sense of the word. His heart was at a standstill, as was his breathing and his movement.
It wasn't until Stan mumbled a hello that Kyle was able to press play on his life. "What?"
"S-she lefht me man. Lhike erbbody. L-like you."
There was a war between logic and emotion raging inside of Kyle. Logically, of course Stan would notice that Kyle went missing from his life. They'd been friends since they were still in diapers. Stan noticing that Kyle was gone didn't mean anything other than Stan noticed. But emotionally, Kyle told himself that Stan missed him because there was something deeper there. There had to be, Kyle couldn't have just imagined the way Stan looked at him. Right? "Stan," Kyle says, his voice as comforting as he could make it, "I didn't want to leave you. I just got a good job offer."
"Bhullll shit." Stan spat. "Iketoldm- me thhatt you ch-come into town all the time. Yoouu neber come seee me."
Damn it Ike, why did he have to open his big fat mouth? Why did his super genius of brother have to decide to be bartender? Kyle just couldn't go see him though, not with everything he felt for Stan, even after all these years. "I'm sorry." Kyle didn't know what else to say.
He could hear Stan mumble something, but what it was, he didn't know. When he had asked for Stan to repeat himself, there was a long silence, then a crash, a mumble, and then the dial tone.
There was no thinking involved with Kyle's next actions. Mindlessly he jumped out of his bed, leaving nothing but a pile of blankets in his wake. Dashing out of his house in nothing but his pajamas Kyle hopped into his car and just started driving. He needed to get back to South Park. He needed to see Stan again.
OoO
A beam of light, the sound of the door shutting, normally, any amount of noise in the morning, especially a morning where he has a killer hangover, would piss Stan off beyond belief, but this meant she had come home. She had to have. "Wendy?" Stan sat up, his eyes squinted shut and stared at the blurry object by the side of his living room door. She didn't look like she normally did, if anything, she kind of looked like… Kyle?
"You fell asleep on the floor Stan?" It was Kyle, why was Kyle here? Oh wait, did he really end up calling him last night?
Pinching the bridge of his nose Stan bobbed his head forwards. "Why are you here?" Stan asked him, a bit of anger, and frustration in his tone.
Kyle stepped over towards Stan and reached a hand down to help him up. "You called me last night, I was worried, don't think too much about it."
The dizziness that took over Stan as he stood up was unbelievable. A knot growing in stomach, a lump in his throat. He needed to sit down, if he didn't he was going to spill bile all over his friend who he hadn't seen since in years. Without saying anything he moved to the couch and rested his arms on his legs. "I'm sorry." He muttered, just loud enough for Kyle to hear.
Kyle's hand tousled black hair, but he said nothing. Instead, he walked towards the kitchen and brought back a glass of water, and some pain pills. "Here." Kyle said putting the glass on the table. "Drink this."
Without question Stan did as Kyle said. The dryness in his throat slowly vanishing with each gulp. Once the glass was empty, Kyle went and filled it up again and placed it on the table again. It wasn't until the pajama plaid man was sitting next to him that he finally was able to ask, "Where have you been all these years?"
Kyle flashed him a look that appeared as if exhaustion and defeat had been slow dancing amongst his features. "Lincoln." Kyle said, knowing damn that wasn't what Stan was asking.
"You know that's not what I meant dude." Stan told him leaning back on the couch, his arms folded over his eyes, the sunlight coming in from the windows was too much for him to handle.
There was a long silence as Kyle searched for the words to say. It was nothing like when they were kids, when they were kids Kyle would just blurt out whatever was on his mind. It was one of the things Stan admired about him, but now, he was holding something back, but what, Stan didn't know. "Did I something wrong?" He asks under his breath.
"No." Kyle answered almost too quickly. "It's just-" The air went mute again, this time, Stan stayed quiet as well. "It's weird for me."
"Why?"
Kyle pulled his legs up on the couch and hugged them. "I can't tell you."
Again, Stan asks, "Why?"
"Because-" Kyle cut off his almost shout with a grunt of some sort before hiding a face that matched that color of his hair on his knees. "because I don't want you to hate me."
A bubbling laughter came over Stan. Kyle was worried about Stan hating him? That was nothing short of hilarious. Kyle was his Super Best Friend who hadn't talked to him in 8 years because he was scared that if told Stan why Stan would hate him. That made no sense, even for Kyle. "Dude, don't you think I'd already hate you if I was ever going too?"
Stan knew that he brought up a good point when Kyle had pulled his head back far enough to study his friends features. "I'm honestly surprised that you don't." Kyle says pushing his face back between the safety of his legs.
"I could never hate you Kyle. The two of us have been through hell and back. Nothing could change how much I love you."
Another sigh left Kyles lips as he muttered, "Not like I love you dude."
Pushing himself forwards made his spin. Maybe it wasn't the action though, maybe it was what Kyle had just said. Stan had to have misheard him. There was no way that Kyle Broflovski was in love with a worthless piece of shit like Stan. "What?" He asked, his throat so dry that it made his voice crackle under the word.
"I know you heard me asshole." Spat Kyle, the viciousness back in his voice. "Why the fuck else would I have driven 7 some odd hours in nothing but fucking pajamas to check on you."
"You? Is that why?" His hand reached over to Kyle, grabbing the soft fire like curls in his fingertips.
The action was enough to make Kyle escape from his makeshift shell and look at Stan with his forest green eyes. "Why I have been avoiding you for the past thousand years. Yeah dude. Because I couldn't sit by and watch you live happily with Wendy while I just hang out with my jealousy."
"I don't think I was ever happy with Wendy." Admitted Stan. "It was more of what I thought was right versus what I felt was right."
"So," Kyle shifted again, his legs now hanging off the couch, his back pushed as far back into the cushion as possible. "What was right to you?"
Stan shrugged. "No idea." He was honest. Years had passed of him doing nothing but living how he thought he should, not how he felt like living. In fact, the only time he ever felt anything was after he drank over half a bottle of booze. That is when the idea of calling Kyle had popped into his mind after all.
It all made sense. Everything in his life finally made sense to him. Kyle was what felt right. Every time something was wrong in Stan's life he either went to Kyle, or it was because if him. "Kyle?" Stan moved his hand down to brush the back if his fingers along a pale cheek line that was changing to pink.
"What? Are you okay?" Kyle asked, his head falling slightly to the side.
A single nod came from Stan. It wasn't like he didn't notice things about how handsome Kyle was. The way his nose was thin at the top and dipped down just slightly before it grew in a size. He noticed the way the soft freckles started getting darker in the summer before 8th grade. The sharp curve from his cheek to his chin that tilted upwards ever so slightly. All of it, Stan noticed everything about Kyle.
But those thoughts and feelings were pushed down. He convinced himself that Wendy was the right choice. She had to have been, and even if he questioned his decision he chose to stick with it.
Until he didn't have too anymore.
Eliminating the gap between them Stan shut his eyes, pressing dry, cracked lips against Kyle's. They were so soft. They tasted like the original flavor of chapstick and a dash of overly sweet coffee that he probably had to drink just to make it here. They were also unmoving causing Stan hastily pull away from him.
Peaking one eye open slightly Stan looked at the man sitting across from him. Kyle's fingers were now placed on his lips, the shock not absent from his face. "Shit, man. I'm so sorry." Stan starts to say, but Kyle moved his hands to Stans lips to hush him.
"Don't be." Kyle took a deep breath and brushed Stans loose black locks behind his ear. "I can't tell you how long I've wanted that. It's just-"
Stan stared at him. Here it comes the inevitable hurt that came with falling for someone. "It's just what?"
"There's no way to make this work. I work over 7 hours away. I can't just up and leave, and then there's you. You have your daughters, your job, your home, Wendy…" Using his thumb and pointer finger Kyle rubbed tired eyes.
"She wants me to be happy. She spent so many years trying to make me happy and the only thing she has ever really done that made me feel any kind of joy are my daughters. She is great person. Always has been, but I just…" Stan paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I loved her, but I couldn't make myself fall in love with her."
Kyle let out a soft laugh. "You sure do know how to play a part."
"Yeah," Stan nodded. "I guess I do."
A loud slap echoed through the living room and Kyles hands met his knees. "How about this Stan?" Standing up Kyle reached out towards him to help Stan stand up. "For now, let's pretend that none of our other problems exist. We'll go upstairs, and go to sleep holding each other. I'll have to go back, but for now, let's just act like I never will."
"I could come with you." Stan starts to say, but Kyle shushed him.
"Let's just enjoy each other's company Stan. It's been 8 years. For now, let's just focus on getting back to where we were." Kyle lead Stan up the stairs but once they were up there Stan took over and guided him to the bedroom.
As the two of them laid in the bed Stan stared at him. All of this, Kyle being here, laying less than a foot away, it was all so unreal. Like a drunken dream, but it wasn't a dream. Kyle was here, and even if it was temporary, he had his best friend back.
And hopefully, if luck was finally on Stan's side, it wouldn't just be for now, but forever.