Disclaimer: I don't own South Park


A true best friend is someone who can make you smile no matter what.

His breath-taking sapphire eyes had some sort of disgusting curse upon me. I wasn't attracted to women. I wasn't even attracted to men. Just Stan. Hell, I'm on the honor roll and I'm in all advanced classes, yet this absolutely bewilders me. It was as if Cupid shot me - no, shot me twice, and then stabbed me - with his very own Stanley Marsh arrow. I fantasized about the way the raven-haired boy's fingers felt when they were interlocked with my own. I needed the delicious warmth of his lips pressing against mine. And I absolutely adored the damn cute way he blushed after each time we kissed - in my dreams.

I was absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with the idea of his love. I was obsessed with his gorgeous, breath-taking face. Hell, I was obsessed with the boy's earlobes. But most of all, I was obsessed with his flawless, crystal eyes. Which is why I hated the morning of the sixteenth of July.

I pounded on the door heavily.

"Stan, I know you're in there!" I called hesitantly. I hugged myself in a desperate attempt to shield myself from the cold.

"Go away, Kyle." Stan commanded me in a monotone voice.

"It's fucking freezing out, Stan." I complained. I heard an exaggerated sigh before I heard Stan's footsteps walking to his front door. When he opened the door, I noticed that he had been crying. His normally energetic, intoxicating eyes were puffy and red around the edges. His nose was a light pink as well, and he wiped his face with his sleeve to prevent me from figuring out that he had been crying. My heart slightly tore.

"Stan," I said, concerned. He sniffed.

"Aren't you going to come in?" He asked. I slowly let myself in his living room, silently appreciating the warmth that his house provided. It felt strange not having Sparky run up to me and greet me happily like I was so accustomed to. I was slightly surprised at the wave of sorrow that rushed through my body as I realized I would never see that friendly old dog ever again.

Stan quietly made his way over to the couch and sat down exhaustedly. I quickly repeated his actions, ready to engage in any kind of comforting he wished from his best friend. Silence filled the air for a few minutes as I stared at Stan's pained expression. I saw the sorrow swell up in his eyes before the glossy coat leaked from the sapphire orbs of perfection. Stan scooted closer to me. My heart skipped a beat.

Slowly, he reached over and wrapped his arms around my neck, wrapping me into a tight, yet heart-felt hug. I clutched his back tightly, taking in the moment. Stan was so fragile; so vulnerable. It was absolutely heart-breaking. I felt my palms become clammy and my knees began to shake. I began to wonder if Stan could feel my heart pounding so rapidly against my chest. I buried my face deeper into Stan's neck, realizing that his fragrance smelled of vanilla. It was so delightfully appealing.

"Dude?" Stan said softly, his voice shaking and on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, Stan?" I replied.

"Did you just sniff my neck?"

I froze, unaware of what to possibly say. Sniffing your best friend's neck wasn't exactly the type of thing a straight guy would do.

"Maybe?" I replied, scrunching up my face. I was absolutely disgusted with myself. We did not loosen our grips of each other. Silence.

"Dude?" Stan called softly again, yet this time his voice was slightly more restrained.

"Yeah, Stan?" I asked, concern clouding my voice.

"Do you like me?" He challenged innocently. I tried to gulp the imaginary knot down my throat.

"Maybe?" I repeated, yet again. This time it was I that was on the verge of tears. My knees banged against each other before I made an effort to stand up. I had to get out of there before I made things any worse.

"Well, I might like you too." Stan confessed, letting go of his grip of me. Those perfect sapphire eyes gazed into my emerald eyes intently. He leaned forward and planted a gentle, yet long kiss against my lips. Right before his lips retreated from mine, I could feel the corners of his lips point upward.

As we both leaned back from the kiss, I was on cloud nine. I gazed at Stan's flawless face again, noticing the uncontrollable, angelic beam planted from ear to ear.

A true best friend is someone who can make you smile no matter what.


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