Starting Note: This is my first multi-chapter story on my new "South Park" only account. I hope you all will enjoy it. I've really buckled down with my writing and refuse to slack off like I did/do on my old account. So, if it takes me longer to update due to proofreading and such, so be it. Warning: This is a Stan/Kyle story (Style). Which means, yes, there is yaoi (boy/boy romance)! If yaoi (boy/boy romance) or Stan/Kyle (Style) isn't your cup of tea, don't read any further than this note. This story is rated M for mature due to its coarse language, sexual content, and ideologically sensitive material. I would like to thank all of you who read, review, and support this story (and my other stories, for that matter). Thank you.
All the teenagers of South Park High flooded the hallway as they began to switch classes. Everyone was cramped into the narrow hallway like sardines in a tightly sealed can. People were bumping shoulders and knocking each other over in a hurry as the tardy bell threatened to ring before they could grab their school supplies and make it to their next class.
However, this was quite a different experience for Stanley Marsh. No matter how many shoulders he managed to bump (and he had bumped into plenty), he never got the same feelings as when he bumped shoulders with his best friend. Oh, sorry, super best friend. His super best friend was none other than the redheaded Jew, Kyle Broflovski.
Kyle was never as bold as Stan and certainly was never as out-spoken in school. He was a quiet, grade A student. He had always been that way, not just because he didn't want to be yelled at by his overbearing mother, but because he actually prided himself on being "the smart one". He had always been somewhat dubbed the smart one; just as Stan was the jock-like one, Kenny was the accident prone one, and Cartman… well… Cartman was just the neighborhood's jackass.
Stan had finally collected his school things from his locker and was heading to Mr. Garrison's classroom. How Mr. Garrison managed to still be teaching (and teaching his same old students, nonetheless) surpassed the comprehension of the school's staff and students. But, this isn't about the man with a fetish for his hand puppet; this is about Stan and how he had been feeling over the past few years or so for his best friend.
The ebony-haired, blue-eyed teen fast-walked down the hallway and he wasn't really paying attention to where he was going. That's when it happened. His shoulder grazed against that of his best friend's. While this happened every day, they ended up having the same reactions as always. They looked awkwardly to the ground, laughed a little, and then looked into each others' surprised eyes.
"Um, sorry, Dude," Stan mumbled lightly, grabbing onto the back of his neck, rubbing it gawkily. "I wasn't looking where I was going."
"No, no. It's not your fault," the Jew replied as he did every day when this happened. He readjusted the thick books underneath his arm and smiled faintly at Stan. "Going to Garrison's?"
"Yeah," the blue-eyed adolescent answered, grabbing tighter onto his own books. "Where are you heading?"
"I'm going to Mr. Garrison's class as well."
"That's awesome! It'll be just like old times," Stan beamed, but his lips slowly turned downward as he noticed Kyle wasn't smiling back.
"Actually, I'll only be there doing important work," Kyle admitted, now rubbing his elbow nervously. "I'm supposed to help Mr. Garrison gather the final exam packages and check them over for typos and mistakes. I'll be in the back of the classroom doing that the whole time I'm there."
Stan looked a bit disappointed and depressed by Kyle's statement. His blue eyes held a little fragment of hurt, but he literally shrugged it off, gesturing with his shoulders. He sighed lightly, placing a hand onto Kyle's shoulder.
"Well, I guess that'll be fun. I've got to tell you, class just hasn't been the same without you, Dude."
"Thanks," the sixteen-year-old redhead grinned, walking along side his taller, seventeen-year-old companion. "My classes aren't the same without you in them either. I wish my mom hadn't signed me up for the early college courses, then I could still be in class with you, Kenny, and Fat-ass."
They both chuckled as they heard heavy footsteps coming up behind them. The footsteps were infuriated in sound as they slammed against the tiled floor. The footsteps obviously belonged to that of Eric Cartman, a pudgy, brunette, seventeen-year-old Nazi.
"Aye, don't call me fat, you stupid Jew!"
Kyle and Stan turned around to face the boy with comical smirks on their faces. This caused Cartman's brows to furrow angrily as he walked between the two, who continued to smirk and chuckle softly.
"Wow, Cartman. You've known me since preschool and "stupid Jew" is the only comeback you can come up with?"
"No," the brunette youngster smiled devilishly, using both hands to give Kyle and Stan both the bird at the same time. "I have three more words for you, Kyle. Suck. My. Balls!"
"Oh, bend over and suck them yourself, Fat-ass," Stan defended with a laugh as the three continued their walk to Mr. Garrison's classroom.
"Hey, guys," Kenny said with a smile and a wave, closing his locker. "Heading to Garrison's?"
"Yeah," the raven-haired boy with the red-brimmed, navy cap responded to the blonde, who had fresh stitches along the side of his face.
"All of you?" The blonde questioned, pointing to Kyle.
"I'm only going because I have to help Mr. Garrison," the ushanka sporting male explained, pointing to a door on their left-hand side. "Here it is."
"God!" Cartman exclaimed with a loud groan. He hated, absolutely hated, school. He hated it almost as much as he hated Kyle… almost. "I hate this place."
Cartman and Kenny were the first to enter the classroom, which was decorated with cheesy yet educational posters and signs. Mr. Garrison greeted them and told them to take their seats, which they reluctantly did.
"Okay, boys," the teacher began, walking over to the blackboard and withdrawing a piece of chalk from a box. "Today we are going to begin studying for our final ex- hey, where is Stan? And where is Kyle? He knows very well that he's supposed to be helping me."
The two boys outside of the door heard their names, but weren't really paying attention to who was saying them. They had somehow gotten off track and had begun to talk of the good times when Kyle had Mr. Garrison's class.
"Stan," Kyle spoke with a smile. "This reminiscing is fun and all, but don't you think we should get to class? Mr. Garrison's wondering where we are."
Before Stan could reply, the teacher poked his head out of the doorway and into the hallway. He looked at the two boys with disapproving eyes.
"What's the hold up? You boys are supposed to be in class. Get in here before we all get into trouble."
"Yes, sir," Kyle grinned, following the teacher into the classroom. He walked to the back of the classroom and set his thick reading materials on the edge of the desk where he was to sit. He found a pile of exam packets ready and waiting for him. He let out a content sigh and pulled one of the packets in front of him, smiling as he opened it and began scanning it for errors.
Stan soon entered the classroom as well, regretting the fact that his and Kyle's conversation had been cut so short. They hardly ever got to see each other now that Kyle was taking early college classes. The only time he and Kyle really got to hang out was on the weekends. Sure, they still talked on the phone all the time, but it just wasn't the same as having Kyle right next to him when they spoke.
The Jew withdrew a red ink pen from his backpack and removed the cap with his pearly teeth, causing the blue-eyed boy to stare slightly. Stan shook his head to snap himself out of his trance and took his seat. He slung his backpack off of his shoulder and onto the floor. His baby-blue eyes looked to the blackboard, causing him to groan as he read the words "final exam prep sheets" written in chalk. He turned back to look at Kyle, who was delicately chewing on the end of his pen. The redhead seemed to be engulfed in his reading as his brows twisted and his face held more seriousness than Stan had ever seen on anyone's face before.
"As I was saying," Mr. Garrison continued, before looking to Stan, who was turned completely around in his seat, staring at Kyle. "Stan, is there something more important than your prep sheets on your mind?"
The boy, whose name had been called, quickly snapped around to face the front of the classroom. His teacher's voice was filled with annoyance toward him and his odd behavior. Stan gulped lightly and shook his head, opening the prep packet that was lying on his desk. He read the questions in his mind, thought about them, and then circled the answers. Whether they were the right answers or not, he really didn't care at this point.
Kyle coughed softly causing Stan to look to him with friendly concern on his pale face. The Jew noticed his friend staring and pointed to his throat.
"Just a tickle," the redhead mouthed, his emerald eyes moving away from his comrade and back onto the paper. His eyes went wide as he spotted a typo in the print. He quickly corrected it using his ink pen, turning the page, and once again looking over the printed words like a hawk.
Stan sighed, turning back around in his chair, continuing to work on his prep sheets. He found it difficult to focus on said work. Since when did it get so hard to concentrate with Kyle around?
Ending Note: Well, did it suck? Did it not suck? Tell me in a review, if you please. Also, don't fear the "favorite story" button, I don't bite. Unless you're like Kenny and you're into that sort of thing. I hope I didn't miss any spelling errors. I've ran this story through a word processor at least a dozen times and stayed up until four in the morning scoping it manually for errors the processor wouldn't be able to catch. I also had my friend read over it for me to catch any errors I may have missed. Stay tuned for chapter two.