Stan watched from the sidelines as Kyle ran up and down the basketball court, showing off his skills and easily crushing everyone who tried to step to him. He was easily the greatest basketball playing in South Park, and Stan couldn't help the feelings he had developed for the other.

It had confused him, at first, to realize that he had fallen for another boy. His entire life he had never felt attraction towards someone of his gender, but somehow, it was different with Kyle. With his super best friend at his side, the repeated break ups with Wendy had slowly gotten less and less painful. In fact, the last time she had ended it, he had only been mildly surprised, hurt more by the things she said to him than by the break up itself.

Letting out a sigh, he dropped his chin into his hands, hunched over as his eyes followed the movements of his secret crush. Sometimes it felt like his heart was going to explode if he didn't tell him how he felt, but he could never bring himself too. What if he was weirded out by his confession? What if he didn't want to be friends anymore? Stan didn't think he could handle that, and so had resigned himself to a life of waiting.

When the practice ended, Kyle joined him, grinning brightly. "Hey, dude," he greeted, bag over his shoulder. "You know you don't have to wait for me, right?"

"I know," Stan answered, unable to keep himself from smiling in return. "But I like seeing you play, so why miss the chance?" He got to his feet, scooping his bag off the bleachers and following his friend out the double doors of the gym. They were seniors, and Stan could feel the ominous presence of graduation growing stronger every day. Soon, he would be forced to separate from Kyle as they went off to different schools, different states, different lives...

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Kyle's voice saying his name. He turned to look at him, noting the concern on his face. They had made it out to the parking lot and were standing beside Stan's car.

"Are you alright, Stan?" Kyle asked. "You seem kind of out of it. Feeling okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assured, unlocking the car to let them in. "Just kind of tired is all."

"Maybe it's the fifteen thousand sports you play and the twenty jobs you have," the teen joked as he slid into the passenger seat.

"I'll have you know I only play ten thousand sports and have twelve jobs, thank you very much," Stan retorted, the pair laughing as he turned his key in the ignition, the car roaring to life.

It wasn't a total lie to say he was tired. He was, and playing three different sports, balancing two jobs, and having time for social engagement meant he didn't get a lot of sleep. Though to be fair, much of the time he should have used for sleep, he used to text Kyle. They had grown up next door to one another for almost eighteen years now, yet Stan felt like he never ran out of things to talk to his friend about. Something new and exciting was always happening, and he could never wait to have Kyle be the first to know.

"Hey, I'm not going to be able to text with you much tonight," Kyle said, cutting off Stan's merriment. The taller of the pair felt ice rip through his body, but he tried to sound relaxed as he answered.

"That's fine. What's up?"

"Mom is insisting we have a family night. Which means she's taking all of our phones and locking them away until tomorrow morning. I just wanted to let you know so if I stop responding to you, you know what's going on."

Stan nodded, his blood slowly thawing from the panic that had gripped him. Okay, so Kyle wasn't getting sick of talking to him, he just wasn't going to be allowed to for a bit.

"That's cool, dude. Thanks for telling me." He pulled into his driveway and they got out, waving goodbye and heading into their houses.

The Marsh residence had changed since Shelly had taken off for college. There was no longer an air of danger that seemed to hang over every nook and cranny, but it did mean there was more room for his parents' dislike of one another to take over.

Running a hand through his hair, Stan kicked off his shoes at the door and removed his coat, then headed up to his bedroom. He needed to be at work in less than an hour, but he wanted to at least get started on his homework.

Getting off of his job at the grocery store at 6:30 and going directly to his second job to work for another five hours wasn't exactly what Stan would call a good set up. He didn't like to complain, however, seeing as Kenny worked about ten different jobs, though no one knew how he managed to pull it off while also having extra time to hang out with his friends.

Honestly, working for his uncles at the gun shop wasn't such a bad deal. Jimbo was more lenient with him than he was with his other student workers, and on occasion, Ned would take him out back and they would work on Stan's aim. He was already pretty good, but as the pair always told him, practice made perfect.

The closing shift wasn't particularly hard, either. Most of the time, Stan simply sat behind the counter and worked on his homework. On the rare nights when customers would come in, Jimbo or Ned would handle them, and Stan would restock or clean.

That night was by far the strangest shift he'd ever worked, as customer after customer poured into the store. Stan figured hunting season was coming up and that was a likely cause of the activity, but he had never seen it before any other year. Regardless, even one customer in the store meant he needed to be on his feet and moving. It was the one rule his uncles had: when customers were around, he needed to be working.

Calling out a greeting as the bell on the door chimed to signal a new person had walked in, Stan worked on stocking the racks of bullets. Since his talk earlier with Kyle, he had been feeling... off. He wouldn't say he felt sick exactly, but it was the closest feeling he had to compare it too.

Fighting back a small wave of nausea, he went to the backroom to get a few rifles for Jimbo to show to a customer. Carrying them to the front and handing them over, he stopped and put a hand on the counter to steady himself as he grew dizzy.

What the hell was happening to him?

Ned noticed his paling face and motioned him to go back into the store room. He did so gladly, slumping against a wall and pressing his hands to his face. Since when did he have a fever? Or was it even a fever? Maybe his hands were just cold so his face felt hot.

Jimbo came into the room to check on him a few minutes later. Taking one look at his nephew, he shook his head. "Let's get you home, Stan. Ned can last a few minutes alone."

Overcome with exhaustion, Stan just nodded, having no more energy to even think about arguing.

In the car, Jimbo chatted at him, peppering him with questions that Stan simply couldn't process. It was like he was underwater, everything sounding muffled and soft. When they arrived at his house, he stumbled from the car and inside, saying nothing to his parents who were surprised to see him home hours before he usually was.

Getting to his room, he collapsed in bed and pulled out his phone, his hands shaking as he hit the keypad in an attempt to send Kyle an apology that he was going to be the one unavailable sooner than they had thought. His vision was blurring, making it impossible to see what he had written out. He jabbed the send button, then closed his eyes.

He wasn't tired, so he didn't fall asleep, but it did help him get back some control of his senses. After a while of laying still in the dark, he heard the soft click of his door opening and his mother's footsteps as she came to check on him. Sharon's gentle touch was welcome on his face, which he realized was definitely overheated.

"Oh, my poor baby," Sharon murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before leaving him alone.

Around one in the morning, Stan pushed himself up out of bed and went to the bathroom, checking his reflection. He didn't look so hot.

His face was pale, and he was covered in sweat, which made his hair stick to his forehead. His eyes were doing some weird shit and looked a bit hazy, and Stan could feel he was still shaking. He took a few mouthfuls of water from the sink, then returned to his room, collapsing back down onto his mattress.

Grabbing his phone from his nightstand, he turned on the screen to find multiple messages and missed calls, all from Kyle. Bringing his phone closer to his face, he unlocked the screen to look through the messages, starting with his own.

[9:24 pm] Stan: npr dinsg fiis srry cebt rekj rinighy tinorroe

He stared at it in confusion, trying to puzzle through his words. Unable to figure out what he'd meant, he moved on to Kyle's messages in the hope that he had figured out what he had been trying to say.

[9:27 pm] Kyle: What? Are you okay? Aren't you at work right now?

[9:39 pm] Kyle: Dude, what's wrong?

[10:11] Kyle: I just fought my mom to keep my phone for you. I'm available if you need me. Please let me know you're okay.

[10:26 pm] Kyle: Okay, Stan, you're scaring me. What is wrong? Are you okay? Please just answer me.

[11:42 pm] Kyle: Stan I swear to god if this is you fucking with me I'm going to be angry

[11:42 pm] Kyle: No, I won't, I'm sorry, I won't be angry. Please be okay.

Following the last message, every ten minutes he got a new text with just his name. Feeling guilty for having worried him, he texted back quickly.

[1:02 am] Stan: Sorry dude i dont know what happened i just got sick at work all of a sudden. Jimbo brought me home and ive been asleep since then. I dont know what was wrong but i think im okay so dont worry.

He got a reply in seconds.

[1:03 am] Kyle: Thank god. I'm glad you're alright, you had me worried. You sure you're okay? I know we joke about it a lot, but be careful not to overwork yourself. I know it's nice to have extra money, but it's not worth it if you're getting ill.

They sent a few more messages back and forth before saying goodnight. Tossing his phone down, Stan sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. The feeling in his chest of his heart wanting to explode had returned full force, and he rubbed his chest in a vain attempt to coax the pain away.

Why did he have to fall so hard for his best friend?

Waking up the next morning, Stan felt as though he had been beaten with a sack of rocks. His entire body ached, and his nausea had returned with a vengeance. Taking one look at her son, Sharon had ordered him back to bed, which he gladly did.

He texted Kyle quickly to inform him he would not be going to school that day, then promptly feel asleep until noon.

Waking up so late in the day was always a struggle for him. It felt like he was pushing through molasses, and it didn't help that his body was already protesting his attempts to move. Getting himself to sit up was about all he could manage, especially as he was struck with another bout of dizziness. He held his head in his hands, trying to stay as still as possible until it passed.

Once it did, he checked his phone and found a few new messages from Kyle, outlining what they had talked about in each class. A small smile crept onto his face as he read over the notes. How like Kyle.

It took another hour for him to finally will his legs into working, and he wobbled down the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and got in, but quickly ran out of the energy needed to stand, and instead sat himself on the floor under the stream of warm water. As it pelted against his skin, he felt his eyelids growing heavy. Knowing it was a terrible idea to fall asleep in the bathtub, he maneuvered himself onto his hands and knees. With no small amount of effort, he crawled to the faucet and turned off the water, then pulled a towel into the tub. Once it was relatively secure around his waist, he dragged himself on all fours out of the bathroom and back to his room.

What the hell was going on with him? What had brought on this sickness? Was he just exhausted, like Kyle said? Probably, Kyle was pretty damn smart. Whatever was going on, Stan wished it would stop already. He didn't have the luxury to be ill, and it was taking precious time away from what little he had left to spend with his best friend.

Letting out a frustrated groan, he fell back onto his pillows, running a hand down his face. What did he want? What was going to help him feel better? The answer came quickly to him, and Stan would be lying if he said it wasn't true.

Kyle. He wanted Kyle. He wanted to do what Craig and Tweek got to do: go around and be super fucking gay. To hold hands and never let go, to show the world that he was in love and didn't give a damn who saw him.

He felt tears prick his eyes, and he let them fall. There was no one around he needed to act tough in front of, so why bother? Why pretend he was okay when he wasn't? No, he wasn't okay. He was in love with his friend, and there was little to no chance of them ever being together.

Stan was unsure how long he cried, but when his tears finally ran out, he turned onto his side to face his bedroom door, not wanting to see outside. He pulled his knees up to his chest, curling himself into a ball. His despair was a physical weight he could feel pressing down on him, crushing his chest, his lungs, his heart. Time seemed to distort around him, and after what felt like only a few minutes, he felt the soft touch of his mother. She was talking to him, likely asking how he was doing, but Stan found himself entirely unable to summon the energy to answer, or even look at her. He wondered idly how long he had been laying there, knowing she got off of work at five. Hadn't it only just been one?

She shook him, and spoke again, but for a second time, Stan offered no response. He knew it was rude, but he simply couldn't bring himself too. He was either going to be sick, start to cry, or lie and say he was alright. None of those options were appealing, so he chose to stay silent. Sharon's hands felt around his face, but disappeared quickly.

He watched her call for Randy, but couldn't connect the pieces in his mind. Why was she reacting so badly? Was it that bad that he didn't answer her? Fine, he'd figure it out, just stop yelling... Not that he could hear her, Stan realized. He saw her lips move, could see the power behind the words, but no sound reached him.

He opened his mouth to say something of his own, but nothing happened. A little worried, he tried to sit up, but the dizziness and nausea that plowed into him forced him to drop back down onto the bed. His world spinning around him, Stan shut his eyes and allowed everything around him to fade. He needed, at least for a short while, to escape.

The first thing he noticed upon waking was that he could hear again. There was a soft, calming beep that broke the silence every few seconds. He kept his eyes closed, just taking it in. His hands felt the blanket that was draped over him, and his brow furrowed in confusion. It was unfamiliar, and it made him open his eyes to investigate.

He was shocked to find himself in a hospital room. The lights were dim, and he could see the sky outside his window was dark. Man, how fast had Sharon brought him here? Just for not answering when she asked him a question? As his eyes traveled the room, the door opened, and Sharon stepped in. Seeing her son awake, she gasped, dropping the cup of coffee in her hands.

"Stanley!" She ran to his side, holding his face lightly as she began to cry. "I'm so glad you're awake. I've been so worried."

"Worried? It's only been like, a couple of hours," he mumbled, looking at the clock on the wall opposite him which read 8:43 pm. When Sharon shook her head, he felt his stomach twist into a knot. What did she mean no?

"Baby... you've been really sick," she said gently, lowering herself into the chair that was beside his bed. "When I got home, you were delirious. You didn't move when I talked to you, and you kept making these little sounds. I felt your face and you were burning up, so we called the hospital and they sent an ambulance."

Stan gripped the blanket over him tightly in his fingers. "When?" he asked.

"Five days ago," Sharon said, comfortingly him as best she could. "We got you here and your fever was so high... you almost died. They couldn't figure out what was wrong, all they could do was try and break it. At one point, you just started talking gibberish and just wouldn't stop. Shelly came back to see if you were alright. She and your father are at home right now. I'm so glad you're awake!" She hugged him again, and Stan returned the gesture, but he felt cold.

He'd been in the hospital for a week. He'd almost died. He'd almost died without getting to tell Kyle how he felt. He'd almost died and taken his love to the grave. He shuttered hard and Sharon pulled back, watching him in concern.

"Your friends have been worried about you," she said. "They stop by every day to visit. Kyle comes by a few times a day. In fact, he should b-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door, and it opened, revealing the teen himself. He smiled weakly at Sharon, then noticed that Stan was sitting up. His eyes widened as they met his best friend's, and before he could stop himself, Kyle launched his body across the room and into the other.

Stan's arms opened automatically, accepting the mass of emotions that was, what he would consider to be, the love of his life as he buried his face into his chest. Kyle began to reprimand him, calling him an idiot, telling him he'd lost all sense if he thought he could have kept up with his monster schedule without a hard burnout. Stan listened to every word, his arms tight around the other. Kyle's tirade stopped when he felt someone hit his cheek. Looking up, he was surprised to see Stan was crying.

"Stan," he said, sitting up as he bundled his sleeve in his fist. "Don't do that. Stop, come on. I'm not mad, I promise." He wiped lightly at his face, clearing away the water. "There, see? Everything is okay. I'm sorry, I just... I was just so worried about you. I didn't know what to do."

Sharon left the two, excusing herself to go and call the family and let them know that Stan was wake and doing well.

Once they were alone, Stan took Kyle's hands in his, staring at them in his lap. Internally, he was screaming at himself to not do this, to just leave it be, but he knew he would only get sicker if he didn't do something.

"Kyle..." he murmured, immediately getting his attention. "I have to tell you something. The reason that I'm here, why this happened..." Taking a steadying breath, he forged on. "I may not be as emotionally constipated as some people we know, but I think that I've had a bit of a harder time with this that I would have if I just trusted you more." He refused to look up at his friend, not wanting to see his reaction to what he was building too. "I accepted this... this thing about myself a while ago, and I was fine with it, even though I never told anybody else. I didn't think I needed to- no, I was scared to let someone know. Because I didn't want them to think I was just copying. I know I'm genuine in my feelings, but that doesn't make it easier when it seems like almost everyone else is set against you from the start."

His rambles cut off when Kyle pulled one of his hands free to rest it against his face. The coolness of Kyle's fingers helped him to calm down and collect his thoughts, as well as give him courage. Finally lifting his gaze, he locked eyes with the greatest friend he had ever had, knowing this was the moment of truth.

"I'm in love with you."

Kyle's jaw dropped in surprise, but he snapped it shut a second later as he began to process what Stan had said. Stan, meanwhile, was working his hardest to appear calm as the inside of his body felt like it was exploding.

You've ruined everything! He doesn't like you that way! He's not going to want to be around you anymore! You should have just stayed quiet! If you had actually died this wouldn't be a problem! How do you always manage to make giant problems out of nothing!? Stupid fucker! You goddamn idiot! You absolute-!

The next thing Stan knew, Kyle was kissing him. His lips were soft, gentle, and everything Stan had ever wanted. He threw his arms around him, pulling Kyle closer as he began to cry yet again. It seemed this was becoming a new habit.

Kyle pulled back first, his arms wound around Stan's neck. He stared hard into Stan's eyes for a long moment, then allowed a smile to take over his face.

"I accept your feelings, Stan. And I'm willing to give this a shot."

After confessing, Stan's health drastically improved. His mysterious illness vanished without a trace, and Kyle began to call it his "love sick" phase. Though Stan would pout and deny it, insisting it had been purely stress induced, everyone knew the truth. Stan's love for Kyle had been so strong that keeping it inside had actually hurt him. It did make it much easier to come out to his friends, as they knew he was serious and not, as he had feared they would think, faking.

The time of graduation was fast approaching, and Stan was enjoying a new commodity in his life: a free day. Kyle had forced him to leave one of his sports and quite a job, which did wonders for his school, social, and sleep schedules. The new couple had taken up hanging out with the only other (out) gay teen couple in town, meaning a lot of time was spent in Tweek Bros. Coffee.

Tweek didn't mind, as he still thought of the pair as friends, as they did him, and Craig simply didn't give a shit as long as Tweek was fine with it. As such, they found the four of them fit together quite nicely.

"Have you two thought about college?" Kyle asked one day as the four found themselves alone in the shop.

Craig nodded. "Yep."

Kyle waited for him to elaborate, and when it became apparent he wasn't going to, he rolled his eyes. "And? What did you decide?"

"I'm going to culinary school," Tweek answered, knowing Craig wouldn't. He was wiping down the tables in the cafe, the other three sitting at the counter by the register. "Craig is going to study this thing called welding engineering and aeronautics. I can't remember what exactly they are, but it's a way to get into NASA's space program." The pride in Tweek's voice was almost palpable, making Stan and Kyle grin as they watched Craig blush. Only Tweek had ever succeeded in making it happen, and they acknowledged his skill rightfully.

"What are you guys thinking?" Craig asked in an attempt to get the attention off of himself.

"Constitutional law," Kyle said thoughtfully. "At least for now that's the end goal. I have to get a degree in something first though, so maybe I'll try psychology. Or sociology. I'm not sure yet."

"You can always duel major," Stan added, nudging him lightly in the side before giving his own response. "I'm going to study veterinary medicine. I want to work with animals for the rest of my life."

"Well, you have Kyle already, so that's a good start." Kyle glared at Craig and went to retort, but was stopped when Stan put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Kyle is amazing in literally every single way," he said. "So, you're damn right having him is a good start. It's better than that, it's the greatest start. He can kick my ass into gear like no one else. Guess who isn't going to be missing assignments and skipping classes now?" With a giant grin, he pointed to himself. "This guy."

Kyle flushed brightly and covered his face, slapping Stan's arm weakly. "Fuck you, dick," he muttered, though his tone betrayed him by not sounding angry or upset.

Stan darted in, planting a kiss on Kyle's lips before standing and stretching. "Well guys, it's been great, but I think it's time to head home." Taking his stunned boyfriend's hand (Stan giggled internally at the thought, still loving that he was able to use the word 'boyfriend' and mean Kyle), they left the shop, heading back down the road towards their homes.

He glanced at his best friend and smiled. This had also become a new habit, but unlike the crying, it had been welcome and stuck around. Stan found it almost impossible not to smile whenever he saw Kyle for any reason, even when he was being reprimanded, though those smiles needed to stay secret or Kyle would beat his ass and that wasn't something Stan wanted.

When they arrived at the fence that separated their houses, Stan paused to turn and fully face the other, taking both of Kyle's hands in his own.

"I meant what I said at the cafe," he said softly, watching their joined hands. "I'm really lucky to have you, and I do think you're amazing in every way possible. You motivate me to be a better person every day. I want to be the very best me I can be for you. Kyle, I just want you to know that, whatever happens from here on, you are the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I really do love you."

Kyle stepped forward, forcing Stan to meet his gaze. He leaned up and they kissed lightly. Just before separating, Kyle murmured softly to him.

"I love you too."

This was for craigtherewhoisahomosexual on tumblr who put out into the world the idea of a pining Stan, and I decided to give it a try.