This story was completed as a part of the South Park Big Bang of 2012. I only now got around to posting it on my master site. Please do check out the fanarts made in response to this fic, done by southartist and Lunarcakes which, along with links to the rest of the stories and art created for this event, can be viewed here: spbigbang *dot* org / fic / rosiedenn12 *dot* php
This was the first fan event in which I took part, as well as the first multi-chapter fic I ever wrote, so I feel quite proud of it. Big thanks to my friend and Beta Jizena for encouraging me along the writing process and helping to create the events that inspired this story. ;)
I hope you enjoy~!
They were going on a trip. That's what they decided together. Rather spur of the moment actually. It was the end of the school year and close enough to Kyle's birthday to provide a decent excuse. They had to get away. Get out of that town for at least a couple of days. Their parents made no objections. They had admitted the two boys were old enough to take a trip on their own and 'make mature, responsible decisions.'
So, Stan and Kyle planned it out. They weren't doing anything too extravagant, of course. Their modest, part-time-job-funded allowances wouldn't permit it, since, while their parents had approved of the trip, they hadn't felt it necessary to contribute anything financially to their get-the-fuck-out-of-Dodge fund. So they were being realistic. They chose Denver, for no other specific reason than it was close and it provided the perfect excuse. They were going to see a show, one about which they had both heard really great things and were willing to shell out the cash to see themselves.
Stan agreed to drive, which was doubly great because Kyle wasn't quite sixteen yet, so couldn't even if he had wanted to (a few more weeks, he kept thinking to himself; it had basically become a mantra in his head). Stan officially drove his mom's old car, but it was as good as his since his mom typically walked to her job these days or waited until the weekend to use Randy's car to run errands. Kyle did the planning, because he was good with that sort of thing. And Stan was more than happy to let him; he hated figuring and coordinating. The two boys were opposites in a lot of ways, really, but in all the right ways. The ways that allowed them to trust each other's judgment on the aspects they knew to be lacking in themselves. They complemented each other. And being best friends for pretty much their entire lives allowed them to go with their understanding as second nature.
So, while Stan offered suggestions and voiced second opinions, Kyle planned it all out. He arranged the schedule, with room for improvisations since this was a vacation after all, divided up the expenses evenly between them, and booked the room. They were staying the night because the show would get out fairly late, and they anticipated they wouldn't feel like driving back right after. Their parents had agreed it was the safer option. The boys couldn't swing more than one day away though, since they'd both have family stuff still going on afterward. In the interest of frugality (again, working with a modest budget), and not wanting to have to resort to parental assistance (since they were both underage), they decided to stay at a hostel rather than a hotel. Kyle's internet search had produced a promising location where they could have a private room for less monetary cost than any hotel. Sure, they'd have to use a college dorm-style bathroom for a night, but it would be worth it. They might as well get used to the arrangement, as they'd be going off to an actual college themselves the year after next. And this way they could still afford the tickets for the show with enough left over to eat, which was definitely a good thing, though it would most likely be fast food, but that was completely fine with them.
The best part about this trip was that Stan and Kyle could just hang out with each other for a while. They'd been so busy with exams and family things the past few weeks that they hadn't had a chance to hang out by themselves in what felt like forever. It was a simultaneous escape from monotony and anxiety and an excuse to just do fun and dumb shit together like they always did. They hadn't lied to their parents about being responsible, but damn were they going to enjoy some precious moments of freedom from everything else.
Kyle was glad for the trip for another reason, one that he hadn't communicated to Stan out loud. He had recently noticed a change in Stan's behavior. It wasn't anything big, but Kyle could sense it in the little things. Knowing each other as well as they did, they could distinguish the slightest variation in each other's habits. There were times lately when Stan seemed to be more reserved than usual, more drawn into himself. Kyle wasn't too worried about it. Stan usually acted that way when he was preoccupied with something. But school was out for the year and, as far as Kyle knew, there was no other big event going on in Stan's life. So he wondered what the hell had been bothering him lately. He hoped the trip might shake Stan out of whatever it might be.
They left the day after their last exams. They'd been shut inside proctored rooms all week, spewing the results, for good or bad, of several nights worth of studying onto papers that would then witness the scrutinizing eyes of their teachers. They hadn't seen their grades yet. They'd probably arrive in the mail while they were gone. But the boys weren't worrying about that during their time away.
Stan picked Kyle up at three o'clock. He sent a text saying he was outside the house and ready. They had to dress for the show, so Kyle was already wearing one of his nicer outfits, the kind he'd never don unless forced to by his mother or for a special occasion, and this was a pretty good one. He had on a pair of navy dress pants with tan oxfords, a white long-sleeve collared shirt underneath a light brown blazer, and a diagonally-striped navy and white tie. He almost hadn't added the tie, but he thought to himself, What the hell, it's not every day you get to see a Broadway musical in Colorado. He'd also managed to tame his constantly unruly hair into a passable arrangement of curls, instead of its typical jumble of knots. He had gotten better at doing this in the past couple of years, now that he sometimes cared more about his appearance than he used to – which was to say, not much at all. Kyle attributed this newer preoccupation to hormones.
Kyle opened the door and saw Stan parked and ready in the driveway. He didn't blame Stan for not coming in. If he had, Kyle's mother would have absconded him immediately and asked him all about how his exams went and for the two boys to have a good time but be safe and did Kyle remember to pack his diabetes medication, just in case. The boys knew instinctively to avoid this situation altogether if they wanted to make it off in the time according to their schedule.
Kyle waved at Stan, letting him know he was coming, before turning around and shouting back into the house a goodbye to his mother in the kitchen. He heard her calling back to have a good time and be safe (she managed to get some of it in no matter what), and Kyle closed the front door, leapt down the few stairs comprising his stoop out of sheer anticipation for the trip ahead, and jogged over to Stan's waiting vehicle.
"Lookin' sexy," Stan said as Kyle slid into the passenger side of the car and tossed his overnight bag into the back seat.
"Shut up," Kyle laughed, securing his seatbelt while Stan shifted the car into reverse and pulled out onto the street. Stan had on black dress pants, matching Oxfords, a medium blue collared shirt, and a nicer brown leather jacket Kyle knew he wore to church sometimes. Stan had forgone a tie, but Kyle was still happy with his own clothing choices. He thought Stan's outfit suited him just fine as it was.
It was about a two hour drive from South Park to Denver. Kyle thought it was perfect: not too long to get bored, but long enough so they could feel like they were far, far away from all the worries and hassles that had been plaguing them for the past few weeks.
Kyle asked Stan if he could crack a window. Stan consented, but only because it was spring and therefore not absolutely freezing out. Kyle pushed the button, lowering the glass about two inches. He didn't want too much air in since they were travelling on the state road by now, and the wind whipped by fast and hard. Kyle just wanted to feel the breeze for a minute. He sat back and leaned against the right side of his headrest, closing his eyes and enjoying the small but persistent breeze wash over his face, invigorating his skin and his senses. It was so relieving just being out and driving along stretches of road that seemed to go on and on. Not having to worry about schedules and the pressures of tests or end-of-term school activities. It was just him and Stan, and they were going away from it all.
"Not falling asleep on me are you?" Kyle heard Stan ask from his left.
"Nah," he replied, then promptly opened his eyes and raised the window, closing the small gap that had let him indulge in a moment's serenity. "It just feels so good, you know? Just finally being done with all of that shit."
Stan gave a small laugh. "Heh, yeah. I know what you mean."
They spent the next hour alternating between music (Kyle was in charge of the CDs, though Stan still vetoed several options before consenting to one of his choices) and idle talk. Eventually, they got around to their plans for the evening. There wasn't much to discuss, since they wouldn't be there long. They had time to get dinner, see the show at the Denver Center, and then head off to the hostel. It'd be fairly late by then and, seeing as how neither of them was old enough to drink, they wouldn't have a lot of other options open to them, so they planned to just check in, maybe stay up for a bit, and then crash.
Stan reiterated their thoughts from two weeks ago, when they'd been planning the trip: "It was a good idea to get a room at a hostel instead of a hotel. It'll be a lot cheaper that way."
Kyle replied, "Yeah, and the reviews were really good on this one."
Stan laughed a bit in his throat. "It's not a big trip or anything, Kyle. Reviews shouldn't matter that much since we're not gonna be, you know, using the facilities much. We just needed a place to crash for the night."
"I know that," said Kyle, gazing out the window at a passing field filled with cows. "But it's nice when you can find a cheap place that's still good quality, right? Especially for a double room. Besides, do you really want to crash in a shit-hole even if it's just 'for the night'?"
Kyle glanced back at Stan in time to see the boy roll his eyes slightly. "Not if I can help it, no," he conceded.
"Well then, reviews do matter, don't they?" Kyle smirked, making sure Stan saw him, gladly rubbing in the fact that he had won and Stan was well aware.
Stan smiled, a look of… appreciation, Kyle supposed he would call it, crossing his face. He then turned his sight back on the road, saying just audibly enough, "Guess you're right."
Their conversation died down for the moment, both boys looking ahead at the road. Kyle used the time to let his mind wander, and he found it wandering to the behavior of his best friend. This was another thing that Kyle had noticed from Stan lately: these hard-to-decipher looks. This particular look wasn't necessarily negative, but it still seemed out of place, and that was enough to bother Kyle. He was usually pretty good at figuring out what was on Stan's mind, but lately he'd been having trouble, and whenever he started having trouble was typically a sign that Stan was worried about something. The main question in Kyle's mind was what? What was bothering Stan? It didn't appear to be anything too horribly drastic, or Stan wouldn't have been able to function as normal. This was something that was on the periphery, and it was vicariously eating away at Kyle's brain as well. Kyle didn't like being unaware of things, it was an unfortunate habit of his, and possibly being unaware of something that was concerning his best friend was starting to get to him. For now, though, Kyle let the moment pass, and the mutual silence lingered. He knew it would be addressed before long.
They made great time on the road. It wasn't even five o'clock when they reached the city limits. They drove to the garage at the Denver Center and parked. On exiting the car, Kyle tried to smooth out the wrinkles on his nice clothes, an after-effect of the long drive. He asked Stan if he thought he looked all right, to which Stan replied that he looked great. The boys were content to walk around the east side of the area until they found a place to grab a bite to eat. They finally settled on a café a couple of streets over.
After the leisurely meal, they made their way back to the Center. The boys waited in the box office line together, though Kyle went up to the window to claim their tickets himself, since they were in his name. He and Stan then went inside, found their seats in the mezzanine, and eagerly awaited the start of the performance.
It didn't disappoint. The Book of Mormon turned out to be hands-down the funniest thing Stan or Kyle had ever seen on a stage. They were laughing almost constantly; it was just their brand of humor.
At intermission, Stan and Kyle went out into the lobby and bought an overpriced chocolate chip cookie big enough to share. "Oh my God," Stan said between mouthfuls, still laughing, "I can't believe they can get away with this stuff! Hasa diga ayyy-" he glanced down at his program, "Eebowai? Seriously? It's too freakin' good!"
"I know!" Kyle said in agreement, then they both laughed even more at Kyle's accidental quoting of the song. Kyle broke off another piece of cookie and chewed it before asking, "So, catch any of those subliminal messages your dad warned us about?"
Stan groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, simultaneously closing his eyes and lifting his head up to face the ceiling. "Dude, don't even," he said, "I'm pretty sure he was just making it all up anyway cause, you know, he's insane."
Kyle snorted. After they'd told Stan's parents of their plans for their trip, Randy Marsh had pretty much flipped the hell out and started going on and on about subliminal messages in Broadway musicals and how they were only produced to get women to give men blowjobs. With the help of his wife, Sharon, Randy had finally calmed down enough to hear Stan's protestations that that couldn't be true. When Randy wouldn't let it go, Stan played along and argued that, since he and Kyle were both guys, it wouldn't work on them, that their maleness made them immune. Randy conceded that he had a good point and sat back down to take a sip of his beer. Then, Sharon had asked them what they would be doing for a place to spend the night, and when Kyle had explained they were going to split a room in a hostel, Randy had spat out his drink and started ranting again.
"Besides," Stan continued, gesturing to the theater at large with his program hand, "with lyrics like these, I don't see how it would even be possible to hide anything like that. It's already crazily inappropriate. In an awesome way."
"I don't know, Stan," Kyle hinted playfully, "I might've caught something there at the end." Mimicking the lyrics to the act one finale, Kyle sang, "My time ta, time ta, now it's my time ta BLOWJOB!"
Stan erupted into laughter, nearly choking on the few cookie pieces still in his mouth. He recovered a bit and reached up to ruffle Kyle's hair. Kyle quickly batted Stan's hand away, immediately on the defensive to save any kind of suitability his stupid hair could retain, and ended up grabbing Stan's hand and pulling it back down between them. Stan smiled at Kyle briefly, then glanced down at their joined hands and quickly pulled his away from Kyle's. "Come on," he said, "let's get back inside." Kyle threw away the cookie's wrapper before following Stan back to their seats. He thought he had seen something there in Stan's eyes, another one of those looks in the way he had reacted to Kyle grabbing him, but Kyle didn't have long to ponder any meaning in this small exchange, as the second act began almost immediately after they had sat back down and he was again swept away in the show's brilliant insanity.
After the performance, Stan and Kyle made their way back to the parking garage and waited in the long line of cars to exit the complex. "Dude," Stan said, "Gary Harrison should never see this show."
"Holy shit, I didn't even think about him!" said Kyle. While the show was by no means vindictive toward religion, it wasn't particularly kind in any sense, and they weren't too sure their Mormon friend would consent to certain liberties taken with the material.
Stan and Kyle then began comparing each other's favorite parts, of which they both had several. Kyle voiced how he thought the show, even in and among all the somewhat crude humor, actually had a really nice message about the nature of faith. To which Stan replied, "Yeah, but that part with the book up Elder Price's ass was pretty fucking hilarious," and they both burst out laughing once more.
Once they finally were free of the garage and moved out of the traffic around the complex, it was a quick ride to the hostel. Stan parked in a lot adjacent to the building, and they both grabbed their bags from the back seat of the car before heading in. Once inside, Stan and Kyle gave the lobby the once-over before turning to each other with a mutual nod. It was a pretty nice place. Kyle's internet search had not let them down. The lobby area was big and open with a few cushy-looking armchairs along the left wall, which housed a well-stocked bookcase that Kyle assumed was there for open loans. Behind the front area, Kyle could see a terrace of sorts with tables, vending machines, and (Kyle was fairly certain) a popcorn machine, like a smaller version of the cart kind one might see at fairs. Straight ahead, he could see a hall and a sign for the elevators. The main desk was on the right, and this was where Kyle and Stan headed, still looking around at the little details that made this place seem like a great one in which to spend a month, much less a single night.
Kyle once again did the talking, since the reservation was under his name. After spelling his surname a couple times for the woman at the computer, they got their key and a list of all the activities planned for the week which Stan and Kyle would unfortunately be unable to attend. They thanked the woman and headed down to the elevators.
Stan pushed the button and said as they waited, "Dude, we've got to plan a longer trip next time."
"Right?" Kyle agreed. It felt like their trip was already half over, but Kyle didn't want to think about that right now. Everything that they'd done all day had been fantastic, and they were going to top it all off with a night in a freaking awesome hostel.
When the elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside, Stan asked, "What floor are we on?"
"Uhhh…" Kyle responded astutely. He checked the key ring the woman had given him. "Room 406. So fourth floor, right?"
"Should be," Stan responded and punched the appropriate button.
They began talking about the show again, agreeing that they would be playing the cast recording (Stan had headed straight to the merchandise table and bought a CD at the end of the second act) during the drive tomorrow. Once the elevator doors opened, they followed the signs to their room. Kyle put the key in the lock and turned it. He opened the door and stepped in two feet, before stopping suddenly. Stan had moved to follow him in, but had to stop short himself right behind Kyle. He peered over his best friend's shoulder to see why he'd come to a halt.
The room didn't look too bad, certainly cozy. It contained a desk, small chest of drawers, built-in closet, and dressing table complete with mirror. And a single bed.
"Oh," said Kyle, sensing the smile he'd felt he'd had for a solid three hours fade, and turned around to look at Stan to state the obvious, "there's only one bed."
"Oh, yeah," confirmed Stan, mildly surprised himself.
There was a slight pause, and then Kyle stated unnecessarily, "I thought it was a double room."
"Well," Stan said hesitantly, "do you want to go back downstairs and ask them what the deal is?"
"Um, I guess," Kyle looked a bit perplexed. He didn't really want to be a problem for the hostel staff, and it wasn't like the room was unsatisfactory or anything, like it wasn't falling apart, but it was true that it wasn't what he expected. "I mean, it's not a big deal or anything. I just…"
"Thought it was a double," finished Stan.
"Yeah. And I guess I do want to check, just cause that's what I thought I paid for and all."
"Yeah sure, man. Let's go back to the desk."
They locked the door and headed back to the elevator. Kyle was aware that the ride down was noticeably more subdued than the one up. They continued to remark on their surprise at the arrangement of the room, kind of repeating things unnecessarily, Kyle thought. He all of a sudden hated how the mood between them had changed in the matter of minutes. There seemed to be something in the air that hadn't existed previously. In spite of the newly-off vibes, Stan and Kyle returned to the front of the lobby.
The nice woman at the desk smiled when she saw them. "Hello again, boys. Was there a problem with the room?"
"Um, not really," replied Kyle, "but do you mind checking something for us?"
"Of course not, how can I help you?"
"Well, it's just that I thought we had booked a double room, and the room you sent us to only has one bed."
The woman asked to see their confirmation sheet again and clicked away on her computer for a minute.
"Well, Mr. Broflovski, the system shows you did pay for a single room with a double bed."
"Oh!" remarked Kyle, surprised, "I thought 'double deluxe' meant two beds."
"No, I'm sorry, sir. 'Double deluxe' refers to one of our fully outfitted rooms with a double mattress. We may have some larger rooms available with two beds, but there will be an additional charge of about $30."
"Oh, well, um," Kyle turned to look at Stan. They both knew they had planned this trip on a budget, and had gone with a hostel to save on the ridiculous hotel prices they'd come across on their online search. If they had to fork over an additional $30, they would be out a significant amount more money than they had anticipated. "Is that ok?"
Stan nodded his head, understanding Kyle was asking him if it was okay they not spend the extra money. "Yeah, man, it's fine. It's not a big deal."
Kyle nodded back and turned again to face the attendant. "We'll be all right, but thanks."
"Of course," she said, "and I apologize for the mix-up."
"No, it's all right. I just interpreted the webpage wrong, I guess." The boys thanked her again and repeated the trip to their confirmed room.
Kyle opened the door again, and this time they walked fully inside before closing it behind them. They both hovered silently for a minute, feeling out what they should do first. On family trips, the first thing Kyle and his younger brother would always do when getting to a hotel was immediately claim a bed for themselves (or, at least, what passed for a bed, as the brothers usually ended up fighting over a pull-out sofa versus a roll-away mattress or something similar). Kyle didn't know if there was a different protocol for claiming a side of the bed.
Stan dumped his bag on the dressing table, seemingly signifying that the bed wasn't an issue yet. Kyle followed his example and went to put his own bag on top of the desk. They wouldn't really be using the space for work or anything since they hadn't even brought anything much with them other than their confirmation sheets for both their reservations, a couple changes of clothes, and their toothbrushes.
There wasn't anything else to do, and they had already been saying how tired they were on the drive from the theater, so the two boys went about the routine of getting ready for bed. Stan went to make use of the communal bathroom, and Kyle used the opportunity to change into his pajama bottoms. He removed his jacket and outer shirt but kept his undershirt on as a sleep top (he'd planned his outfit so he could do just this, since it saved space in his bag and all… God, I'm a dork, he thought to himself).
While he folded the clothes he had been wearing (another internal groan at his own expense) and draped his jacket over the back of the chair in front of the desk, he couldn't help but think about the bed situation. Kyle wasn't bothered by it. Just, having to deal with it made him realize that he and Stan actually had not slept in the same bed in a good long while. They used to all the time when they were little. It was a lot less hassle than having to roll out a sleeping bag every time one of them was at the other's house (which, of course, was quite, quite often). But, they hadn't really once they'd gotten too big to share a bed comfortably. They both had twin beds in their rooms, and it only worked well with one teenage boy in them at a time. So, once they had gotten to be about thirteen, they'd started having to use sleeping bags out of necessity. Each of them had one stuffed into the bottom of their closets for this express purpose, and they would take it out whenever one of them would end up at the other's house too late in the evening, whether it was planned or not. Their parents never cared. The two boys had been friends for so long, and impromptu sleepovers happened so often, that their parents always said the boys actually had two rooms apiece. Their dads even sometimes joked that they should really be able to claim another dependent on their taxes. It was kind of annoying, but Stan and Kyle knew their parents were merely kidding and were happy to have them around whenever.
Still, it was true that this situation was actually odd for them. This bed, thankfully, was a full-size, so it shouldn't be too bad with both of them in it. It would be snug, but there should still be enough room for both of them to lay down comfortably with enough space in between so they weren't on top of each other or anything. That would definitely be awkward.
Stan came back to the room (he had to knock and Kyle opened the door for him, since there was only one key and Stan hadn't taken it with him), so they switched places, Kyle going to the bathroom while Stan did whatever he had left to do in the room.
Kyle smiled, thinking about Stan's nightly routine, or as much as he could, anyway, with a mouth full of toothpaste and a rotating brush. Kyle always folded his clothes unless they were going in the laundry bin. He used a shelf in his closet to hold the items that he had worn once but weren't dirty enough yet to warrant cleaning, so he kept a small stack of folded clothes there. Stan, on the other hand, would toss his clothes in the general area of his closet or chest of drawers, and they'd mostly all end up on the floor, whether they were dirty or not. Kyle teased him about this ceaselessly, since he much preferred more order in a living area. Stan argued that the mess wasn't around the entire room, just in a localized area, and that made it more manageable, and he knew which items were dirty based on which pieces ended up closer to his laundry bin, which was shoved into a corner of his closet. Kyle had to concede that point to him, since the mess was never an issue when they sat on the floor to work on a project or when Kyle needed to roll out the sleeping bag if he was sleeping over, but he would still always sigh exasperatedly at Stan's professed logic. It didn't really bother Kyle, it was just fun to tease Stan about something that he could so easily fix but chose not to.
His bathroom activities complete, Kyle gathered the few items he had brought in with him and walked back to their shared room. He smirked again, making a silent bet with himself that, while he had folded his used clothes and put them back in his bag, leaving the ones for tomorrow neatly stacked on the top of the desk, Stan's clothes would be draped all over the dressing table. Kyle knocked on the door (he'd forgotten the key, too), and once Stan opened it for him, he glanced at Stan's temporary area and hid another smirk, finding that he had been right. Stan's bag looked like it had been through a minor explosion, with some of his few clothing items hanging half in and half out of the bag, while his shirt from today hung limply over the corner of the table.
It was almost ridiculous how predictable Stan could be, Kyle thought. He practically knew what his friend would do even before he did it. But, at the same time, in a way, it was also comforting. Stan and Kyle had gone through a lot of changes during the course of their friendship. They'd been friends for so long, it was almost scary how greatly things were different now from when they were running around the playground as toddlers. But, during these times of predictability, Kyle could remember the little boy that Stan used to be. He could see that little boy within his friend and remember why he'd stuck with him all these years. Stan was a constant in his life, and these moments helped reaffirm that.
Now, if only Kyle could decipher why Stan had been showing an unnerving amount of lapses in his predictability, he would feel a lot better.
At the moment, though, there was one important issue which they needed to address: there was only one bed and two of them. They didn't need to make a scene about it or anything, but Kyle felt the need to address it all the same. "So," he said once he'd returned his bathroom supplies to the plastic bag he'd packed them in, inside his larger one, "how do you want to do this?"
"Do what?" inquired Stan. He looked up from checking his phone messages, apparently his mom had been checking to make they were all settled for the night.
"The bed, what do, you know, want to do?"
Stan looked at the bed and then back at Kyle, phone still in hand. "Uh, sleep on it?"
Kyle ran a hand over his face. Stan could be a bit dense at times. He got that from his father, though Kyle would never say that to Stan openly. "Yeah, ok, Sherlock, but, like, do you care which side or anything?"
"Oh. Uh, no, not really." Done with his reply message, Stan flipped his phone shut and put it on the nightstand on the side closest to him; it would act as their alarm in the morning. He stared at Kyle over the mattress and gestured between them with his left index finger. "Since we're already kinda on different sides, you wanna just call it like this?"
Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, sure, whatever. It doesn't matter much to me. I just wanted to, you know, check."
"Unless you want this side? Would you rather not be close to the window or something?"
"Huh? Oh, no, I don't care."
Stan eyed his friend marginally. "You sure?" he asked.
"No, Stan, it's totally not a big deal. It's fine. You wanna go to sleep now or…?"
"Honestly, kinda, yeah," Stan managed to get his answer out before being overcome with a giant yawn which Kyle thought could not have been more appropriately timed.
He just had to grin at Stan's simplicity. "Ok," he said and then pulled up the covers to maneuver himself underneath. Kyle was anticipating actually getting to sleep for him to be somewhat of a problem. It had nothing to do with the bed situation. He just always had a hard time falling asleep in a place that wasn't familiar (basically any place besides his or Stan's room). On trips, he'd always still be awake long after his family had nodded off. He was used to it, but it was inconvenient as hell. He hoped that because Stan was there, maybe he could trick his stubborn mind into believing the place was familiar enough to shut off and let him get some rest.
Stan stayed standing for a moment, Kyle assumed to give him time to adjust or whatever. He was sitting in the bed and turned around to pull his pillow closer. It was then that he properly noticed there were three. "Oh," he said, holding up the middle cushion, "uh, what do you want to do with this extra one?"
Stan regarded it for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. "You want it?"
Kyle lay back and tested out the pillow already behind his head. It was far too thin and soft for his standards. "Actually yeah," he admitted, "this one by itself kind of sucks."
"Go for it, then."
Kyle sat back up to maneuver his pillows and made an attempt at witty banter to try and shake off the still slightly awkward atmosphere between them. "Sorry if I kick you in my sleep or something."
"No problem, I'll just punch you in the face if you do," Stan returned, laughing. Kyle laughed a bit as well, but the joke still didn't fully diffuse all the tension from the room. Damn it, thought Kyle, what the hell is wrong with us all of a sudden?
"Do you mind getting the light?" he asked Stan.
"No problem. That's why I stayed standing, waiting for you to get settled." Well, that was courteous, thought Kyle.
Stan did indeed walk over to the light switch by the door and stopped with his finger over it, paused in readiness. He turned toward Kyle, letting him know without words to pay attention to what happened next. At the same moment he finished singing the line, "Turn it off!" his finger went down on the switch, cutting the light. Kyle laughed at this final reference to the spectacular show they had just seen, Stan joining him.
Stan then made his way back to his side of the bed in the dark. There was enough light filtering in from the shades in front of the window to make his trek not too hazardous. He got under the covers, both boys now lying down on their backs, looking up at the blank unfamiliar ceiling.
Kyle suddenly felt a bout of remorse. He felt like it was his fault that they had ended up with a room that was slightly inconveniencing for the both of them. He didn't want anything to ruin their trip. They'd been looking forward to it for so long and they'd already had such a good time, he didn't want to be the one responsible for ruining it because he couldn't decipher a stupid webpage. "Hey, Stan," he said softly, "I'm sorry I messed up the room."
"You didn't, Kyle, it's not a big deal," Stan assured him. "We've done this before."
"Yeah, but not in a long time," Kyle argued. It's not a big deal. That phrase kept reappearing like an echo. If it wasn't a 'big deal' then why did they keep having to say it wasn't?
And why were they still talking about this? Or, at least, why did Kyle feel the need to?
Changing priorities, Kyle decided to just get away from the subject and end the night on a more positive note. He turned to face Stan and said, "Still, I'm really glad we got to do this, the show and just hang out together. It's nice to get away from all the normal heavy shit, yeah?"
Stan looked over at Kyle. Kyle couldn't be sure in the dark, but he thought he saw something pass behind Stan's eyes, like he was debating within himself for a moment. Then, the look passed, or the look Kyle thought he had seen, and Stan smiled and said, "Yeah, I'm glad, too." Then, with a final "Night, man," he turned over and faced the opposite wall.
Kyle blinked, wondering if he should pursue that oddity, but he didn't want to open up the awkward box again, so he returned his own "Goodnight," and turned over to face his wall as well.
As Kyle lay on his side, thinking (curse his perpetually analytical brain), he became unnervingly aware that there was actually one aspect of Stan's behavior that he'd never been particularly good at predicting, and that was these bouts of reservation. From time to time, Stan would kind of draw in on himself, become incredibly stand-offish, and even shut down completely. These bouts were usually the result of some emotional trauma or, worse for Kyle, some thought process that he refused to share with anyone.
Whenever Kyle was faced with a serious problem, he would typically get angry and ramble on about it to anyone who was unfortunately in the vicinity to hear it, or he'd seek Stan out specifically because he knew he would listen to him and help him deal with it. Or get him to shut up, which Kyle recognized did need to happen on certain occasions.
However, when Stan faced a similar problem, he would sometimes internalize it but still act out against it, appearing like he was depressed or pissed off for no reason. And the worst part was that Kyle could never get him to talk about it. He'd always have to wait until Stan finally exploded and revealed the big mystery. It was horrible for Kyle, because he always felt so helpless during these times. No matter how desperately he might want to help Stan, there was not a thing he could do, and patience was not a particularly stellar virtue of his. He'd learned to deal with it over the years, but it was still difficult to wait through. Based on Stan's late behavior, he wondered if this might be one of those times.
Trusting the problem would go away by morning, when they'd both wake up rested and refreshed, Kyle also hoped the added awkwardness of… whatever was going on between him and Stan… wouldn't aggravate his other bad habit, leaving him tossing and turning all night. Mercifully, the long day and drive coupled with the awesome show had left him pretty tired, so he managed to fall asleep rather quickly (by his standards anyway).
Kyle woke up what he guessed was a few hours later. His bad habit couldn't let him get away with a sound night's sleep that easily. He thought about getting up to get a drink of water from the bathroom sink, then he realized there was something wrong with the way he was lying in bed. His face was still angled toward the window, but at some point his body had shifted so that he was lying flat on his back. He tried to turn on his side again, but there was something restricting his movement. He wondered vaguely if he was caught up in the sheets before he came out of his sleep-haze enough to realize that there was a thing lying on top of his chest.
And that thing felt like an arm.
Confused, and still a little drowsy, he opened his eyes to see that, in fact, Stan's arm was draped over his torso. And not only that, but the rest of Stan was awfully close to Kyle's body as well. Kyle looked at Stan's face. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, eyes shut, apparently completely out of it. He was breathing steadily with his head bent slightly down on the pillow. Kyle wondered if Stan's movement or the air from his breath had been what had woken him up.
But then Kyle realized that Stan was holding him in his sleep.
Kyle was awake now, but he stayed frozen for a moment. This was wrong somehow. He didn't really care that Stan was touching him. They'd hugged and rough-housed plenty of times, so the physical contact kind of wasn't an issue. But, they shouldn't be sleeping like this, right? Best friends don't sleep with their arms around each other. The people who do that kind of thing are…
Kyle's eyes went wide, and he tried to slide out from under Stan. It wouldn't leave him much room on his side of the bed, as Stan had kind of conquered it all, but maybe Kyle could shake him awake or just push him over once he had extricated himself.
He managed to get a couple of inches, but then Stan apparently felt the movement in his sleep, and chose to reach over further to try and keep his new, live, quite freaked out snuggle buddy within his grasp.
Said buddy was so taken back, in fact, that he pushed himself a little too far and ran out of bed. Kyle yelped as he managed to free himself from Stan's grip only to end up falling to the floor in a heap.
The noise woke Stan, who grunted something incoherent before poking his head over the side of the bed to look down at Kyle below him. "Why are you on the floor?" he asked oh-so-astutely in a sleep-thick voice.
Kyle let out a moan before replying, "Because you're a dick." Thankfully, he'd missed hitting the desk with his face and landed more or less on his side, allowing him to control his descent with his arms. He wasn't hurt; only his pride was bruised.
Stan stared at him perplexed. "What'd I do?" he asked.
"Nevermind. Just help me up, will you?"
Stan reached a hand down to do as requested, then backed up on the bed so that Kyle could sit down on the edge. "Seriously, man, what happened? Did I push you?"
He actually sounded genuinely sorry if that was the case, and that touched Kyle. Then he remembered the real reason he'd ended up on the floor and looked away, embarrassed. Though he wasn't sure why. He hadn't been the one getting all touchy-feely. "No, dude, you didn't push me," he said.
"Well, then, what?" Stan persisted.
Kyle still didn't want to look at Stan, but he knew that his friend wouldn't let the issue go until he received a decent answer. No matter what new level of awkwardness it might lead to on this trip. So he settled for the truth. "You had your arm around me."
Stan thought about this for a moment. "Oh," he said, still fairly oblivious, "was I hurting you?"
Kyle let out of frustrated sigh, "No, Stan, you weren't hurting me, you just… you were almost hugging me, or something."
"A-oh," Stan vocalized in quick comprehension-apprehension. After a pause he added, "Like cuddl-?"
"Yes, like that!" Kyle shouted before Stan could finish the word. It was bad enough that they were having to deal with this, but did Stan have to spell it out in the most awkward manner possible?
"Ahh." Stan stayed silent for a while, which was only prolonging this horrible patch in Kyle's opinion. "I'm, uh, sorry, dude, I didn't… I mean I was sleeping, so I wasn't trying to… I couldn't-"
"It's all right, Stan," Kyle said, trying to move beyond the moment now. He really just wanted to get some sleep. He turned to look back over at Stan, who was still lying on his side raised up on one arm. "It didn't mean anything, it just... surprised me is all. It's not a big deal." There was that phrase again.
Stan almost looked hurt for a minute, but then shrugged his upper shoulder, "Uh… yeah, of course."
Kyle sighed. "Let's just go back to sleep, ok?"
"Yeah, sure." Stan moved over about as far as he could go on his side of the bed, giving Kyle a copious amount of space to re-settle himself under the blanket. Away from Stan. "Sorry, again, dude, I didn't mean to hurt you or anything."
"I know, Stan. It's all right. It's fine. Let's just go to sleep," repeated Kyle.
Kyle turned over toward the wall again. Of course, he couldn't fall asleep right away, so he awkwardly thought about what had just happened. Lying there, he remembered suddenly that Stan usually slept while hugging a pillow. Of course, Kyle mentally slapped myself, how could he have been so stupid not to remember that? Stan had started doing that during one breakup with Wendy and kind of kept going with it after. Maybe he used to sleep like that with her? Had Kyle just become the unknowing replacement for that? He was surprised Stan hadn't thought of it as well. Maybe it was such a subconscious thing that he didn't even realize he did it. Maybe Kyle should have let Stan have the third pillow. Whatever the logistics, it was over now, and Kyle was fairly certain Stan had already fallen back asleep. He hoped he could get over that high-anxiety episode and manage to do so himself.
It didn't take too long before he slipped back into unconsciousness, but, of course, his natural restlessness refused to be merciful with him. After a few more hours, he woke up again. This time, he was on his other side, facing away from the window.
And right into the face of his best friend who had once again wrapped his arm around him and apparently pulled him closer to his body.
Kyle didn't hesitate this time, he immediately freaked the fuck out. He pushed his arms out in front of him and hit Stan in the chest at full force, yelling, "JESUS CHRIST, STAN, WHAT THE HELL?!"
"OW! Shit, what?" Stan was winded from the attack, but recovered (and woke up) quick enough to protect himself from any further assault. He kept trying to grab Kyle's arms, which were still trying to simultaneously pound and push away from the black-haired offender. His legs got into the fight as well, but only really succeeded in getting caught up in the sheets. "Jesus, Kyle, stop flailing!" Stan demanded.
"I'm not flailing," Kyle retorted, "I'm trying to get out from under the damn covers!"
"And you're kicking me like crazy, so fucking stop!" Stan rolled over so he could pin Kyle's spastic limbs to the mattress, legs on top of his and hands clamping down on his wrists. The further unsettling result was that he was now straddling Kyle. Stan's expression was unreadable. Kyle thought he looked kind of pissed, at least.
Kyle glared up at his friend. "Get the fuck off of me, Stan!"
"Kyle, shut up a minute, just – stop!" Stan continued to stare down, refusing to break eye contact with the redhead. Kyle narrowed his own gaze and pursed his lips together, giving Stan some reluctant, non-verbal communication that he was consenting to his request. "Thank you. Now, can we just fucking deal with this like rational people for a minute?"
"Dude, this is really not helping your case right now," Kyle said, referring to their current physical positions.
"I'm not making my case yet, I'm just trying to get you to calm the fuck down so I can figure out what the damn issue is."``
"You were hugging me, Stan. In. Your. SLEEP. Is that not an issue to you?"
"Uh, not really. Dude, what's the big deal? We've hugged plenty of times before." There was that phrase again. What the fuck? thought Kyle. Was it haunting us or something?
"Yeah, but Jesus, Stan, that's while we're awake!" he shouted. "Hugging while we're asleep is just totally freaking –" Kyle stopped himself from finishing that sentence.
"What, Kyle? What is it?" Stan insisted.
Kyle could hardly stand this. Stan was still on top of him in a manner that only flat-out screamed what he had just thought and was trying avoid.
His moment of silence apparently annoyed Stan more. "Kyle, fucking WHAT?!"
"It's completely GAY!" yelled Kyle. "It's totally, utterly and outstandingly GAY!"
And then they were stuck in a moment of the most awkward silence Kyle had ever experienced in his life.
"What's wrong with that?" Stan finally asked.
"WHAT?!" Kyle was so confused all of a sudden. Where had that come from? "Stan, what're you saying?"
"I dunno, just…" Stan fumbled, though Kyle couldn't be sure if he saw something once again flicker across his friend's face, though it was gone as quick as it appeared, so he couldn't have been sure. Stan continued, "I'm just asking what's wrong with being gay?"
"Well, nothing, really," Kyle honestly responded, though a bit taken aback by the moralistic question, "but, fuck Stan, we're not gay." A thought suddenly struck Kyle and he stared up at his friend with quite a different expression. "Wait… unless…" Kyle let the rest of the sentence hang in the air.
Stan nervously looked at the pillow behind Kyle's head, determinedly not looking at Kyle's face.
"Stan…" Kyle tried cautiously. He was reluctant to ask this outright, but there was no way around it now. It was hanging there, openly in the air, and Kyle had to acknowledge it. "Are you?"
Stan still didn't look at him. "I've been thinking about it," he answered cautiously, "for a while now."
Kyle waited. Stan said nothing. "And?" Kyle prompted.
"And…" Stan hesitantly forced his gaze back to his friend, "probably, yeah."
There was an awful moment where neither one of them moved, or hardly even breathed, for that matter. Then, all of a sudden, Kyle inappropriately exclaimed, "What?!... I-I-I…What?!" He realized he sounded an awful lot like his mother at this most delicate of times. Way to fail, Kyle, he thought, but this was so out-of-the-blue to Kyle's perception that he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the situation. Which was probably why he first responded with something that wasn't entirely appropriate, "Shit, Stan, you could have told me."
"I was waiting for the right time."
"So you decided to come out to your best MALE friend while sitting on top of him?"
"Well that, like most of this conversation, wasn't really planned out, you know?" Stan said with a definite note of frustration as he finally got off of Kyle and returned to lie down on his side of the bed. Kyle remained on his back in the same position, but turned his head so he could keep looking at Stan.
Kyle sighed. He realized he wasn't acting as supportive as he knew he was supposed to be in a moment like this. "Look, Stan, I'm sorry for… well, for freaking out. It just startled me was all. I don't care if you're gay, dude, it doesn't matter. You're still my best friend and that's certainly not going to change that."
Stan let out a small laugh. "Thanks, dude," he replied, genuinely.
"Is that why you've been acting kind of distracted lately?" asked Kyle.
Stan looked toward the other side of the room. "You could tell?"
"I'm your best friend, dude," Kyle gave in explanation. "But it wasn't anything major, just, you know, something I picked up on."
"Hmm." Stan was still looking off to the side.
Kyle felt the need to prove things were really ok now. "Hey, are you… did you want to, like, talk about it or anything?"
"Actually," Stan turned his head so he was gazing down as his hands resting on his stomach, including Kyle in his peripheral vision, but still not looking directly at him. Kyle supposed he was still not quite comfortable enough to do so. Stan started to absentmindedly pick at his nails before continuing, "I was kind of planning on bringing it up during this trip. Not that that's why I wanted to come or anything, just… that it was convenient and all, you know?"
Kyle guessed that Stan meant here, in a private room in a hostel miles away from South Park, where they could be guaranteed no interruptions, not from either of their parents or friends or even having to split up and go home because it was getting late. This is what they'd wanted, to be alone, just the two of them. Kyle could understand how that seemed like an ideal opportunity to have a discussion as serious as this. Maybe Stan had even tried to earlier, and Kyle just hadn't given him the opportunity.
"Sure, dude. So… let's talk."
And they did. Kyle mostly listened as Stan told him about a realization that had taken him the better part of the past year to get to.
Some of it Kyle already knew, of course, but that was only the obvious events. Like Stan and Wendy's final breakup about a year and a half ago. They had been on again/off again for the longest time, but during their last stint together, Stan had told Kyle that they were really trying to make it work. Stan and Wendy decided that this time, they were really in it for the long haul, for better or for worse. But, it still hadn't worked. Neither one of them could really say why, but they both knew, in their hearts, that they just couldn't be together. And when Wendy asked Stan one night if he honestly, truly wanted to keep their relationship going, he had honestly, truly responded, no. So, they mutually agreed to let it go for good this time.
"I was sad, you know, even though we both knew it was for the better," Stan confessed to Kyle, still staring down at his hands resting lazily on his stomach. "Wendy was… all I knew, really, but then after it was over, I finally started to think about other things." Remembering how (what Kyle felt was overly) dramatic Stan had been during his and Wendy's early breakups, Kyle almost made a smart remark, but he heard the small hint of truthful pain in his friend's voice, so he kept his mouth shut as Stan continued his story.
Kyle listened as Stan described all the jumbled up feelings he'd gone through in the next month or so, basically questioning everything he had simply assumed to be true about himself. Kyle thought back on those months himself. It had been the middle of their freshman year, and also a particularly academically-demanding one for Kyle. He'd had three honors classes, debate club and lacrosse season to juggle. He'd been really busy, and though he had told Stan at the time that he'd do whatever he could for his friend in the wake of his final breakup, he realized that he might have missed some signs of the severeness of what Stan had been going through. He suddenly felt horrible. He'd been preoccupied with his own (in retrospect) silly affairs while Stan had basically been going through a severe emotional dilemma.
He suddenly interrupted his friend's confession, "Stan, dude, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn't you let me know all that was bothering you?"
Stan shrugged as best he could while lying down. "You were really busy with your own shit," he said, "I didn't want to bother you with my crap."
"But, dude," Kyle argued, "I hate myself now that I know you were going through all that while I was stressing out over fucking algebra and stupid games. I was so fucking oblivious, I'm sorry."
"Kyle, it's ok." Here, Stan turned to look Kyle in the eyes. It was the first real time he'd done so since getting off him to lie on the bed. By this time, Kyle had shifted so that he was lying on his right side, facing Stan, giving him his undivided attention. He'd been watching Stan's face this entire time. He wished now that he'd been so attentive when his friend needed him most. Keeping his gaze fixed on Kyle's, Stan continued, "It sucked, but… it was really something I had to work through on my own, you know? And I knew, once I started to really figure out what was going on, that I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told anyone. You were always one of the first people on my list to tell."
"Like, right after your parents?" Kyle asked.
"Maybe even before, dude. That's what happened anyway, and I'm glad. I'm glad you're the first to know."
Unintentional pride rose up slightly within Kyle at these words. He was honored that Stan favored him so highly. "Well, I'm glad, too," he said, giving Stan a smile, which the black-haired boy returned. "But, why did you still wait so long? It's been over a year, Stan."
"Well, it took a lot longer to sort out than you think. Like I said, I wanted to really be sure, and then, I wanted to live with it a while, you know. Like, I dunno, a test run, I guess. Just kind of go around with it in my head and just operate under that assumption for a while? Does that make any sense?"
Kyle thought he might understand what Stan was attempting to explain. He knew this issue was a big deal, for anybody. And maybe Stan had needed some time to himself, to be okay with the realization himself first, and that was totally fine. Kyle couldn't blame Stan for being cautious with it. It was a big deal, but not so big that it changed anything majorly.
"Sure, Stan, I get it. Like I said, I'm glad you're telling me now. And it's all ok, man, no worries." Kyle paused and then went ahead and confirmed this new (old) fact about his friend. "You're gay. And, now I know. Now you've told somebody."
Stan grinned hugely in Kyle's direction. With a slight laugh, he said, "Dude, thank you. Thanks for being so… cool and understanding about all of this."
"Of course, man. I'm not Cartman or anything. I'm not gonna freak out and yell that you're gonna give me 'gay cooties' or anything dumb like that," Kyle said, joking about their intolerant dickhead of a 'friend,' attempting to bring some levity back into the conversation.
"Oh God," Stan fake-groaned and put a hand over his eyes. "Maybe I don't want to ever come out to him. He'd never fucking shut up about it."
Kyle laughed in agreement. "I promise to keep it hidden from him as long you want, by any means necessary."
"Thanks again, man," Stan said, lowering his hand and shifting to lie on his side as well. They mirrored each other's positions for a moment, each facing the other, each one smiling at his best friend. Then, Stan reached his arm up and once more enveloped Kyle in an embrace. This time, however, they were both fully awake and cognizant. Kyle allowed himself to be held, and, without much of any hesitation, he reached his arm up as well and wrapped it around Stan's back, returning the hug. Stan squeezed him a little bit tighter once he did. "I really did want to tell you, you know," he confessed, whispering in Kyle's ear, "I just, never had the right moment."
"I believe you, Stan, you don't have to prove anything," Kyle assured him, rubbing his hand across Stan's shoulder blades a couple times. Though Stan showed no signs of teariness, the boy had been known to be the more emotional one of the two (when it came to quieter emotions anyway; Kyle beat him in the more loud, angrier emotional department), so Kyle added an extra little bit of assurance to his statement. He continued, "And I don't think there really is a right moment anyway. There are good ones, but you can never find an absolutely perfect one."
"Yeah," Stan chuckled, pulling back, "as your flailing clearly pointed out to me, thank you. My chest will never make that mistake again."
"Oh, shut the fuck up, dumbass," Kyle retorted. They both laughed as Kyle playfully knocked his hand into Stan's shoulder. They once more rearranged themselves properly on the bed. It took a bit of work, as Kyle had actually managed to pull half of the sheets untucked and they had to get out of the bed to fix it, but they eventually settled back on their respective sides of the single bed. This time, Kyle and Stan lay facing each other.
