Kyle POV
It's the middle of night again, probably around 4:30 A.M. Still, I cannot find peace within my fucked up head. The same thing keeps racing through my mind, a thought that won't be silenced by mediocre attempts at sleep. I try to close my eyes again, but all I see is a scene that I've already watched play numerous times; a pair of eyes glancing up at me through and curtain of black hair, then a hand coming to sweep away the unkempt locks granting me the most heart-stopping view in the world. Nothing, not even the grandest natural beauty could compare to what I see again and again through my lidded eyes. A gaze so haunting it still wreaks havoc on my brain. A gaze only one person in this world could deliver…Stan Marsh.
And that, is why I am plagued relentlessly every night. My super best friend was giving me these troubling thoughts and movie reels in my head; which only bothered me because the feelings that he invoked were far beyond anything I'd ever felt before. It was more than crush, more than any girl I ever thought I liked. I never knew it was possible to feel this way about another person. When I think about how he looks at me or how he accidentally touches me, all the blood goes rushing, and I feel like my body is high from all of the adrenaline. It is strange for me to think about feeling this way about Stan; that would mean I'm gay, right?—God damnit.
Even if I were gay, and even if I tried my hardest, I would never have him the way I yearn for him. I would always be second best, and left with an emptiness that makes my chest burn incessantly. I will never have Stan. He will never feel the same about me, and it hurts. The need I feel for him, is almost too much, and when I think about it, how he'll never touch me the way I want or feel for me the way I feel for him, it kills me. Every part of me crumbles in to nothing and it seems like no one else can make me whole.
Is this what love feels like? If it is love, then it truly is a soul destroying emotion, and when all I feel is torture from this experience, I wonder how in the hell could it be good?
But if I imagine Stan reciprocating my feelings, then something else happens; it isn't pain or agony, or even emptiness. It feels like my body has been filled to the very brim with warmth and glorious anxious pangs. I wonder if this is what love is truly like, and I hope it is. It's far too beautiful a feeling to let it just die. These feelings give me hope but, I know my chances are statistically slim. I wish I had a chance to show him, without judgment and without fear or repulsion, the power of what I feel for him. Although I know I'd probably chicken out, if the opportunity rose in reality.
I can only imagine how it would feel to really be with Stan; only guess at how he'd touch me if he had the chance.
His fingers ghosting across my skin, I feel goose bumps rising from his touch, and the pit of my belly becomes churned and boiling warm. He is faceless, but recognizably Stan. His familiar scent made the vision even more vivid, as the feel of skin on skin made my heart beat uncontrollably. His hands dragged their way up my thigh passing over my groin and straight to my abdomen, where he splayed his fingers across my belly. Every nerve tingling touch sent me deeper into fit of madness. My imagination is pretty damn good… I felt Stan's hot breath in the crook of my neck making my hair stand at attention. He proceeded to lightly press his lips against my flushed skin and give me a feathery kiss, which I can only describe as nearly perfect. The only thing preventing the kiss from being perfect was the absence of the real Stan.
Every time he shifts against me my whole body shudders. It feels too right to be anything close to wrong. Nothing in this world could feel more right than Stan and I together. I only wish I could embrace this vision and pretend it's real; then maybe I could live freely within this fantasy and block the pain from reality. But I know if I do that then my senses with find nothing to embrace and I will be left with nothing.
I open my eyes slightly, glancing at my unexciting ceiling, compared to my visualization of Stan. I wonder if this is just the way things have to be. That this is my punishment for being the way I am, and that if I were normal, that I wouldn't be suffering for this. Then why does everything feel so natural to me?
But…I still can't bring myself to even admit it to Stan, let alone talk about it with him. There couldn't be a chance in hell for me, besides, he's been on and off with Wendy for god knows how long. He is a man's man, and is definitely into girls, I would be better off without even mentioning it.
I close my eyes once again, trying for sleep, but as my body tires and my consciousness slips, the last thing I see is Stan's warm smile.
I would give you anything, if only you would have me…
AN: I'd love some feedback, this was an experimental one shot, because I LOVE Stan and Kyle. I'd like to start another project, but I'd love some suggestions, PLEASE, I LOVE REVIEWS!
