I don't have any notes, but submissions look weird without something here up top. Mission complete!
Second (and final) chapter later this week.
"You're gonna get those photos tomorrow, whenever you come by." Stan chewed his gum and stared at the woman standing in front of the counter.
She shifted. "Tomorrow? The sign says it takes two hours."
He looked up at the clock. "We close at five." Stan turned back to look at her, and watched her face go from upset to angry.
"I needed these printed tonight. You shouldn't offer two hour printing if you close in the middle of the goddamn day." She tapped her fingernails on the counter and looked around behind Stan to see if she could find a manager
Stan shrugged. He pulled at his beanie, covering more of his hair. "I can give 'em back to you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kyle walk through the door. He nodded acknowledgement towards him.
"No, fine. I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning." The woman huffed, before turning heel and angrily walking out.
Kyle walked up to the counter and leaned on it. "What the fuck was that about?" He picked up a pamphlet about photo developing options, looked at it for a second, and threw it aside.
"Who knows." Stan shook his head. "Hey, I'm heading out," he shouted across the room to Craig, who nodded and gave a little wave. Stan turned his attention to Kyle. "Kenny coming out?" Walking around the counter, the two of them made their way to the doors and out to the street.
Kyle laughed. "Not so sure. He's got some girl over there, I think." Stan smiled and shook his head, not surprised. "And fuck Cartman, man, after last time I'm not even trying with him. "
Stan laughed quietly. He lowered his head against the wind and held his arms closer to his body. shoving his hands in his pockets. A t-shirt was probably a bad decision for today. "You know, Kyle, I'm pretty sure we've said that before."
"Yeah, but we should really try this time. He's such an asshole. You cool with my house?" Stan nodded in agreement, looking like he'd just be glad to get inside. "Alright. My parents might be home, but whatever."
They walked in silence to Kyle's house, the wind steadily getting colder. Winter in South Park was pretty brutal most years, and this one was coming in fast. When they finally got to Kyles house, Stan hopped up and down while Kyle fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the door. They kicked off their shoes in the mud room and Kyle yelled through the dining room and kitchen, checking for his parents. "Not home, I guess."
"Cool. So, Grand Theft Auto?" Stan asked, still shivering a little. Kyle nodded, and the two of them bound up the stairs noisily heading towards his room. Stan threw himself on the Futon while Kyle put the game on. "So, who's Kenny fuckin' now?"
Kyle grinned, and stepped backwards to the couch before sitting down, handing the second controller to Stan. "I dunno, man. I have some guesses, but I'm never sure with him. He sounded pretty pleased with himself, though."
"He always does." Stan laughed, waiting for the game to load. It was true. Kenny had become some sort of rock star at the high school - the strange mix of redneck twang, fearlessness, and some pretty honest compassion was making girls in every class fall all over themselves for him. Kenny, a good guy in general but not so much when faced with tits, was really taking advantage of the spike in interest. Cartman hated it, and tried constantly to usurp power by flaunting his letterman jacket and screaming loudly about his successes on the field, which was a joke. Stan was always quick to remind him that they just needed a fatass to park in front of the other team. It usually devolved into fist fights pretty quickly.
Stan and Kyle were relatively cool, thanks to Kenny, mostly. Stan got plenty of interested girls asking around about him, but he just couldn't conjure up any interest. He'd become pretty reserved the past few years, so the idea of having to get close to someone seemed downright terrifying. Kyle had a recurring thing with some girl named Ashley. Stan didn't pay much attention.
"You wanna smoke?" Stan asked.
Kyle shrugged. "If you're offering." Being in high school meant pot was still a pretty hot commodity and Kyle wasn't about to turn down a freebie.
"Whatever. I've got a bit left, who am I going to smoke it with if not you?" It was true. Stan didn't really have any other close friends. Even Kenny was a little bit...much. Good in small doses, but unless you wanted to go muddin' on a Wednesday afternoon with three girls you didn't really know, it wasn't a match. "You got a piece?" He paused, then laughed. "No, of course you don't. Never mind, I have some papers." He pulled off his beanie and grabbed a small bag and a rolling paper out of it.
"You're a fucking weed magician." Kyle grinned at him and at the idea that Stan's hat perpetually had the tools to get high in it.
"You know it," Stan said, carefully rolling the paper between his fingers, squinting and occasionally pinching here or there.
Kyle couldn't use rolling papers for shit, so he was fascinated by how easy Stan made it look. He knew that Stan had a lot more practice, having cultivated a little bit more of the "bad guy" reputation around school. At some point he'd become less talkative, slouchier. He gave smoldering looks and laughed quietly to himself over things, like he knew something funny that no one else would get. Girls, of course, found it enticing. Kyle thought it was an annoying phase but was still jealous of how cool the whole image was. They didn't really talk about any of it, and Kyle often didn't know where Stan was or who he was with after school. Sometimes he worried that Stan was taking the image too far, so he kept a close eye on him at parties, lest he duck into a basement that was offering up more than schoolyard weed. He may have been acting like a total idiot, but he was still Stan, and Kyle knew it was his job to watch his back.
Stan ran his tongue over the paper and Kyle got a weird chill up his spine that he couldn't quite recognize. He paused the finally-loaded game, stood up and walked to his desk, throwing the controller down behind him. He grabbed a lighter from his desk and tossed it in the air a few times before Stan looked over and held his hand out for it. "I'm surprised your mother hasn't confiscated that contraband."
"I tell her it's for lighting candles. For some reason she believed that." Kyle watched as Stan lit the joint and inhaled, holding down the smoke while he shook his head and smiled.
He let the puff of smoke out with a laugh. "God, denial is so powerful." Stan held out the joint to Kyle. Kyle took it, and in an instant knew that he could finally get some answers from Stan if he just Bill Clintoned it. Kyle grinned, held the joint to his mouth, and mimicked holding it in. Stan was looking down at his hands, so he didn't even have to try to fake it too hard. He handed the joint back to Stan.
After a few hits back and forth, Stan could feel himself getting that numb, warm feeling he loved so much. He rolled his head back and sighed, glad to put some stress aside. "So," he heard Kyle saying, and snapped his attention back. "Who'd this come from?"
Stan took another hit. "Some guy Craig knows. Friends with kids from the community college." He looked down at the joint. "You good? That got me high faster than I expected."
Kyle nodded, and Stan pinched out the ember on the end, resting the remaining half of the joint on Kyle's side table. "So, is that who you were going to that thing with?"
Stan looked over to Kyle, feeling a little disoriented. "What? What thing?"
"You said you have a thing you are doing this weekend. Is it a thing with Craig's friend?" Kyle sat back down on the futon.
Stan nodded. "Yeah, just some stupid fucking party. You can come if you want, I hate these guys."
"So why are you going?"
"I dunno," Stan groaned. "They have acid, and I was hoping to get some."
Kyle laughed. "I did acid once. When I was younger, that time in California. Still, you shouldn't fuck around with it too much." Stan just laughed, absent-mindedly. "So...dude, you've been so...weird recently."
Stan shook his head to focus. "Sorry. Why have I been weird?"
"That was kind of what I was asking you. But, you know, man, you've been so...spaced. Quiet. You don't really talk anymore." Kyle carefully watched to see how Stan would take this statement.
"Yeah," Stan said lazily. "You ever jealous of Kenny?" He asked. If Stan was changing the subject purposefully or just because he was high, Kyle wasn't sure.
"What, the girls? I dunno, maybe, man. I don't think about it."
Stan nodded. "Yeah, me neither. You've got that Ashley, though."
Kyle looked at Stan, who had a hesitant grin on his face like he wasn't sure what expression to put on. "Nah. I mean, yeah, but we're just friends. We hooked up once or twice, but mostly we just hang out sometimes."
"Yeah?" Stan's smile faltered. "Why's that?"
Kyle shrugged, wondering if maybe he should have just gotten high. This didn't seem to be working. "I dunno. I'm just not that into her."
Stan shifted so that he could look at Kyle in the eyes. "Now, why do you think we don't care about Kenny's track record with girls?" Kyle gave him a blank look. "Why do we just avoid thinking about it? Why don't we have girlfriends? Why don't we talk about girls? We should be, at our age, right?" He shook his head and grinned, returning to his own thoughts. His questions had been earnest but had a rhetorical sound to them.
"I mean, I guess, man. I don't know." Kyle mumbled, embarrassed by the questions and anything that they could imply. "None of it feels right. I guess I'm just waiting for the girl that makes it feel right."
Stan licked his lips and his tongue felt heavy. He really wanted some water but battled through the unfortunate side effect. "Listen," he proposed.
Kyle laughed. "Oh god, every good high idea starts with an encouraging 'listen'."
"Not a high idea," Stan argued, though Kyle was anything but convinced. "I thought this one up a while ago." He shifted into a more comfortable position and was quiet for a minute. He took a breath. "You know you're my best friend. And that's important. So I want to make sure I'm getting the right...clearances. To do this."
"...clearances?" Kyle asked, with no idea where this was going but felt his stomach give an instinctive flutter. Somehow his body knew to feel nervous before his mind caught up.
"Shut up, you know what I mean. I mean...Okay, listen. Don't freak right away. I'll explain. But I think we should kiss. Just to, you know, see if there's a reason nothing else feels right. I mean, not to be gay. Well, sort of, but, I just mean-"
"Okay." Kyle answered simply, cutting him off. He was at full attention, alarming himself with the feelings he instantly felt when Stan made his suggestion.
"Wait...you don't want..." Stan looked confused.
"No, I don't need you to explain it. I understand. So, now?" Kyle asked, suddenly wanting nothing more than to start trying.
Almost breathlessly, Stan said "yeah, definitely now." He scooted closer to Kyle on the futon. Kyle leaned in, his cheeks bright red, and the two of them hesitated for just a moment. Kyle laughed a little, and Stan just mumbled "oh, fuck it," and their lips met in a soft, quick kiss. They lingered for a moment before sitting back. "Dude, I'm pretty high."
"Yeah?" Kyle looked worried.
Stan shifted. "Yeah. I want to...whatever. Never mind. That was cool."
"I thought so too. So..." Kyle was confused about what was happening. "Aw, shit, dude, I'm not high. So I'm completely clear on what I'm doing. Are you?"
"You're high." Stan said. He looked at Kyle and squinted. "Wait, you aren't high? Well fuck then, get high. Or not. Your call, I guess." The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, looking around the room. "High or not, I want to kiss you again."
"Yeah?" Kyle raised his eyebrows, barely suppressing a grin. Stan just nodded, playing it amazingly cool. Kyle thought about it. The overwhelming creepiness of doing anything with someone who was high and not being high yourself won out, and he picked up the leftover joint. "For the record," he said, before lighting it and taking a hit, "...I don't need to be high..." he strained to speak while holding in the smoke. He exhaled and looked back to Stan. "I just don't want to be creepy."
"I get ya," Stan said, and nodded. Kyle took a few more hits, then efficiently put the joint out. Before he could adjust to the feelings of the high, he felt Stan's hands on either side of his face, guiding Kyle to his lips.
Kyle exhaled, almost as though he were relieved. And in a way, he was. Kissing Stan felt weirdly right. He didn't have too much brain capacity to devote to figuring out why that would be, because most of it was being used to focus in on Stan's tongue slowly trailing over his bottom lip, asking for permission. Kyle obliged and met Stan's eagerness with his own, exploring Stan's mouth with his tongue.
The small fire that had been burning in Stan responded to the taste of Kyle's mouth, the feel of his tongue against Stan's, every little sensation, as though a can of gasoline had been thrown directly on top of it. He tried not to get ahead of himself, not wanting to scare Kyle off, but Kyle was showing no signs of worry. Clutching at the fabric of Stan's shirt with one hand, the other hand on the back of Stan's head as if he couldn't seem to kiss him deeply enough, Kyle seemed to be pretty game for what was happening.
