A/N: This fic is so overdue, omg. I've been struggling with serious writer's block lately, but I think I'm over it now. I was determined to finish this fic, pfft! Plus, there's so little Stary content that I felt morally obligated to contribute, and Stan is always a fun challenge for me to write, since I so rarely write from his perspective. I hope you guys enjoy, and thank you for reading!
Even when weary from travelling, and maybe the slightest bit seasick, Stan had to admit the island had been enchanting at night. The inky sky, cluttered with stars, was reflected on the glimmering sea, and save for the roar of the engine tearing through the waves, all was silent until they reached the harbour. The sudden sound of workers conversing as they milled around the docks, and the distant peals of laughter and the thrum of festive music from the town had been quite disorientating to Stan after that mild, perfect quiet. But soon, sat in the back of a cab on his way to the beachside Bed & Breakfast, he came to love those lively noises too.
In the daylight, however, the island was breathtaking and saturated with colour; from the wide, aqua sky, to the sour green vegetation and flowers swollen with pollen, to the bright houses and shops lining the streets like a painter's palette. It was strange, Stan thought, but also a relief, to find a paradise such as this that had barely been touched by commercialisation. He knew there were equally as impressive resorts a boat ride away, but who needed all that noise? Especially when travelling by yourself. As he walked along the pale beach, with only the crash of the turquoise waves and the squawk of tropical birds overhead to disturb the silence, he knew this was just what he needed and definitely worth the months of saving and deprivation.
Reaching a rock pool, the iridescent glimmer of small fish caught his eye. They wriggled their way through the water, joined by tiny, white crabs. Kneeling down, Stan inspected them further. He loved all animals, but had a particular fondness for marine life, even the smallest ocean dwellers. He smiled, dipping his fingers in the cool, shallow water.
"Hey!" A voice called out. It was an accent similar to his own, though decidedly more chipper. "Hey, excuse me!"
Furrowing his eyebrows, Stan stood up and looked around for the owner of the voice. He soon spotted a tall, blond guy who seemed to have emerged from the line of palm trees, waving and jogging over to him.
"Hi!" Blond guy said when he finally reached him. "I don't wanna disturb you it's just... those crabs are mean little things, and super dangerous. Last month one of them nipped at a guy's finger and it swelled up like a disgusting, pus-filled balloon and... well, he was in the hospital for a long time."
"Oh, um, I didn't realise," Stan replied, glancing at the rock pool before returning to the stranger. "Thanks for telling me, uh-"
"Gary." He grinned, with perfect white teeth. He held his hand out to shake. "Harrison."
Stood right in front of him, Stan could now see how handsome Gary was. His skin was decidedly more tanned than Stan's pink sunburn, almost matching his warm, toffee-coloured eyes. His hair was a golden blond, wavy and cropped to his jaw, tucked behind his ears. He was dressed modestly, in a plain t-shirt and khaki, wide-leg shorts that sat just below his knees, but even that outfit couldn't hide his lean, muscular arms and trim frame. Stan smiled, though was reluctant to return the handshake. Not only because of how physically inadequate he felt standing in front of Gary, but because his presence was making him sweat more than the Caribbean sun, and nervous butterflies were already twisting his stomach in knots. If Stan actually touched him, the consequences could be mortifying. But it was rude not to shake his hand, especially when Gary had been so friendly, and considerate to warn him about the vicious crabs in the rock pool.
"Stan Marsh," he replied, returning the handshake.
Gary's eyes widened at the mention of his name, and he froze. The slowing, robotic handshake went on for so long that Stan had to snatch his hand away. That wide, bright smile returned, however, but it didn't make Stan feel any better.
"I knew you looked familiar..." Gary said.
Stan raised his eyebrows.
"You did?"
"Yeah!" Gary chuckled, nodding. "Stan Marsh? From South Park, right?"
Now, it was Stan's turn to freeze. Despite the heat, a shiver ran down his spine and he began to back away.
"Yeah, how did you – shit!" He replied, almost stumbling over a rock.
"Whoa, careful!" Gary laughed, grabbing Stan's wrist to steady him.
He was too embarrassed and still too perturbed to thank him. In the awkward, stifling silence, Gary dropped the smile and cleared his throat. Stan appreciated it, and he smoothed down his shirt as he waited for an explanation.
"I used to live in South Park too!" Gary said, grin helplessly returning. "Only for a little while though, I guess you may have forgotten..." He ducked his head then, and rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed a little deflated, disappointed that Stan couldn't remember. He was still drawing a blank. "I was in your class? You had dinner at my house?"
Stan remembered then; the conversation in the playground with a boy who seemed just as perfect, even irritatingly so, and his large family, and being told the story of Joseph Smith after dinner...
"Wait, the Mormon kid?" Stan asked.
The kid I thought I would never see again.
"Yep, that's me," Gary replied, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Small world, huh?"
"Totally!" Stan couldn't help but laugh. He coughed into his fist though and copied Gary, tucking his hands into his pockets too. "I... I'm sorry I didn't recognise you earlier, it's just, a lot of crazy stuff happened when I was a kid and-"
"I've heard. That town was never far from the news, right?" Gary chuckled, before waving the apology off. "It's cool."
"Yeah, well, thanks," Stan replied, before he realised he had another apology that was way overdue, an apology he never thought he would have a chance to make. "And, I'm, uh... sorry about what happened when we were kids." He sighed, struggling to look at Gary. "You were just trying to be my friend, and I judged you, and that wasn't fair."
Gary shrugged, still smiling, but Stan knew that wasn't an apology he could shake off so easily. It was one that needed to be acknowledged, that Stan needed to be forgiven, for both their sakes.
"Hey, don't sweat it," he said regardless. "Like I said, it's cool. We're all grown-up now."
"Thanks." Stan smiled, cheeks flushing. "Again."
"No problem. So what are you doing here?"
"Oh, just travelling," Stan replied, grateful that Gary was steering them to another topic of conversation. "I've wanted to come to the Caribbean since college, it's beautiful. So I'm just visiting different islands. I've been travelling around for a couple of weeks, but I only arrived on this island last night."
"Wow, that's great! Are you liking it so far?"
"Yeah, I love it. The beach is..." Stan paused, eyes roaming the blue horizon before they returned to Gary's waiting, smiling face. "Wonderful."
"I think so too," Gary replied, looking to the sea as well. "I love coming here."
"So, do you, like, live here or something?"
"Yeah, I came here when I was nineteen to do my mission work with the church and I fell in love with the place. Even when I got here there were a couple of other older missionaries who had stayed on and built their own church. It's amazing, the community is so generous and welcoming. It's paradise, really."
Stan nodded. "Seems like it."
"Do you wanna see it?"
"What?"
"The church? It's not far from here..." Gary gestured to the palm trees.
Admittedly, taking a look at a church wasn't exactly how Stan had wanted to spend his afternoon, but he hadn't expected to run into Gary either. And he definitely didn't want to part from him yet.
"Sure," Stan replied. "That would be great."
Gary smiled and without another word, began to walk away, but Stan quickly followed him.
"I got to admit, I had it a lot easier here than most people have on their missions," Gary said as they walked down the street, Stan could still hear the sea crashing not too far away. "The hardest part is trying to spread the message of the Book of Mormon to random people and to help them join the church. You go door-to-door and some people may already be committed to a religion, or have no interest in religion, or have a bad opinion on your religion."
Stan cringed, he had no idea if Gary meant to be pointed with that remark, and that made him feel even worse for acting like such a dick to a guy who was so forgiving and easy-going. Even if the transgression occurred when he was a kid, that didn't stop him from feeling a little ashamed.
"But here, the other missionaries had done such a great job, that we had already established a church here. So, really, it was a case of assisting them," Gary continued. "I taught the younger kids, and did charity work, and volunteered at the hospital. I guess that's the biggest lesson I take from my faith, the importance of kindness and helping others. After two years you can go back home, but this was my home, now. Or, like, my second home at least. I feel like there's so much more I still want to do here that I can't go back yet."
"I don't blame you for not wanting to go back home." Stan sighed, turning his face to the bright sun. "How could anybody want to leave this place?"
"Beats me." Gary shrugged. "Where are you staying, anyway?"
"Oh, the uh, 'Turtle Inn' bed and breakfast? A woman and her husband run it. I think her name is Collette-"
"Oh, yeah, I know!" Gary interrupted with a grin. "They're a nice family. The church has a huge, annual barbecue and Collette always helps out with the food. She's an amazing cook. She probably cooked your breakfast this morning."
"Probably," Stan replied, remembering the sweet plantain pancakes and coffee he had that morning. He sighed. "It was delicious."
"Most likely her, then..."
Gary's gentle, half smile almost disappeared in the glare of the sun, but it still caught Stan's attention and coaxed a soft, quiet laugh out of him.
"Hey, Gary!"
Stan followed the sound and was greeted by the sight of a small, red brick building that, despite its uniqueness, paled into the background of the colourful street. A silver plaque, declaring the building the "Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints" was next to the wide, screen doors and three young men, dressed similarly to Gary, were lounging on the porch, drinking water out of crinkled plastic bottles. One guy, however, had stood up, and was waving Stan and Gary over.
"Hey!" Gary waved back, before again walking over to the building without another word to Stan.
Admittedly, Stan was a little more annoyed this time but still followed Gary over to his friends.
"Who's this?" Another guy asked, leaning against a white column.
"Guys, this is Stan," Gary replied. "He's a friend from back home."
Stan couldn't help flush at being referred to as Gary's friend, and his heart clutched at the opportunity it presented. Perhaps this little run-in was the perfect time for him to really make amends?
"Oh, so is that where you went?" The first guy asked.
"No, no, but when I went for a walk on the beach, I just so happened to run into Stan. Can you believe it?" Gary grinned, clapping Stan hard enough on the back to wind him. "I had no idea he was here, we hadn't seen in each other in years!"
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Stan!" The first guy beamed, grabbing Stan's hand and shaking it vigorously. He had large, blue eyes and an even bigger grin. His jet black hair was slicked back, by sweat or product Stan was unsure. "I'm Ryan, I'm who Gary was stuck with for two years."
"Nice to meet you," Stan replied, returning the handshake.
He was careful not to come off as disobliging, plastering the biggest smile he could muster on his face. But compared to these guys, even that would appear half-hearted and meek.
"And that's Simon, and that's Todd," Ryan said, pointing to the other two guys who were already making their over to Stan and no doubt preparing their own introductions.
"Hey, Stan, how are you?" a guy with sandy blond hair asked as he shook Stan's hand. "I'm Simon."
Stan only had time to nod before Todd snatched his hand away from Simon's grip and shook it too.
"It's great to meet you, Stan." He smiled.
"Thanks, you too," Stan replied, making a note to wipe his hand on his shorts when he was out of their sight. Too much hand-shaking had left his palm hot and sweaty.
"I just wanted to show Stan the church," Gary explained.
"It's, uh, lovely." Stan nodded, studying the building.
"Thank you!" Todd beamed.
"So will you be attending any services while you're here, Stan?" Ryan asked.
Gary's patient, encouraging gaze instilled some much needed courage into Stan when his friends were awaiting his answer eagerly. Stan knew he would feel like an inconsiderate asshole stepping on their hospitality if he declined, but he was still a sceptic.
"Oh, probably not, I'm, uh, not a Mormon..."
He winced and tucked his hands behind his back as Todd, Simon, and Ryan exchanged puzzled glances.
"You're not?" Simon asked.
"No, no, I'm a... catholic, I guess?" Stan replied, his face warm. Religion had been at the back of his mind since he was a teenager, at least. "It's hard to say, I haven't been to church since I was a kid, so..."
"Well, that's great!" Todd grinned.
"We welcome everyone," Ryan assured, with a nod.
Stan sighed in relief. It was going to take much more than a sceptical, religiously confused tourist to put a dent in their enthusiasm.
"Thanks, uh-"
"You want me to show you around the rest of the town?" Gary asked, placing his hand on Stan's arm.
"Sure, I'd like that," Stan replied, relieved and delighted.
"Then let's go," Gary said as he led Stan away. He nodded to his friends. "I'll see you later, guys."
"Thanks, guys." Stan smiled, nodding at them too. "It was nice meeting you."
As they walked down the street, Stan could hear a chorus of goodbyes coming from the church.
The town was brighter, but so much quieter in the daylight. Conversation still drifted out of the busy stores, but the restaurants seemed to mostly be occupied by waiters wiping down tables and families finishing their lunch. The bars were even more deserted and quiet, save for a few dozy regulars who lounged in the sun.
Stan and Gary stood by the seafront, not too far from the harbour where Stan's boat had docked the night before, and ate ice cream. Stan had ordered strawberry, and Gary chocolate, and although Stan had smirked to himself when Gary suggested buying their scoops, something cold and sweet was much appreciated in the heat. Whenever Stan licked his lips the strawberry mingled with the salt on his skin.
"So besides the church, and the volunteering, and all that good Mormon stuff what else do you do here?"
Gary laughed under his breath, like he could have forgotten all those wonderful things he had reeled off to Stan so casually only an hour earlier. He looked to the sea, as if it could make him recall them all.
"Well, Ryan and I play tennis sometimes," he replied. "I teach guitar to some of the kids, play soccer... oh, and I surf."
"Wow, really?" Stan smiled.
He had the grown-out hair, sure, but to Stan, Gary just didn't seem like your typical, mellow surfer dude. But then he imagined Gary emerging from the waves with a board tucked under his arm, his hair dripping wet, and his bare skin glistening in the sun. His smile didn't dissipate, weighted by the dreamy image.
"Yeah, I love it." Gary grinned. "I never had the opportunity before I came out here, but this guy Zac runs his own surfing school and Ryan and I decided to try it out. Ryan liked it, sure, but he forgot about it soon enough when running the church started to take up more time. But for me it was like my stress relief, you know?" he sighed, eyes returning to the sea again. Stan never realised just how captivating the water could be. "It sounds cheesy, but being out there just slows the whole world down, and I don't think about anything else except the waves. If I'm ever mad, or stressed, or upset, I just grab my board, go to the beach, and all my thoughts just seem to... turn off."
Stan nodded, eyes drawn to the bewitching sea too.
"Sounds really peaceful..." he turned to Gary. "Maybe it would ruin the Zen of the whole thing, but, you ever think about entering competitions?"
"Totally," Gary replied, eyes returning to Stan too. "I have entered a few."
"How did you do?"
Gary shrugged. "I came first a couple times..."
Stan's shoulders drooped in fond exasperation. Gary couldn't fool him that easily. He knew he was trying to be modest, and he also knew that Gary seemed to have the golden touch with any hobby he picked up.
"How many times?"
Gary fidgeted, shy eyes struggling to meet Stan.
"All the time..."
Stan laughed and shook his head.
"Of course you did..."
His laughter simmered when Gary gave his arm a soft nudge.
"Anyway, enough about me, come on..." he let his gaze wander over Stan, oblivious to how much it made his skin prickle. "I wanna know more about you. I don't even know what you do for a living."
If he was honest, Stan wasn't a hundred percent sure himself, but in Gary's company acknowledging that didn't seem like such a scary, embarrassing revelation. Maybe it was his own job, his devotion to his faith, that made him exude the trustworthiness of a priest in the confessional, encouraging Stan to tell all... or maybe it was his wealth of compassion, and gentle smile, catching Stan's eye like the glinting sun.
"Well, I'm, uh, kinda in between things lately," he admitted. "I've spent the last few years of my life training to be a veterinary assistant but then when I actually found a job I realised this isn't what I want to do."
"So what do you want to do?"
Stan sighed.
"I don't know, I just... I've always wanted to work with animals." He smiled. "I still do. And I guess being a vet or an assistant seemed like the only option to me. Plus, I would be helping animals and saving lives, what's more rewarding to an animal-lover than that?" he shook his head, studied his melting ice cream. "But the idea of it didn't exactly match up to the reality. I have a pretty weak stomach, and in school I seemed to handle it, because I could convince myself it wasn't actually real, but by the time it was, I would've gotten used it."
"But you didn't?"
Stan shook his head, before looking up from his ice cream.
"So now I'm just taking a break – the first break I've had since graduating high school – and thinking, maybe... about where I want to go next."
"And you've had no ideas so far?" Gary asked, before casting his arm to the sea. "None of these beautiful places you've visited has inspired you?"
"A little..." Stan shrugged and smiled to himself. "Marine biology is appealing to me. Ever since I was a kid I've been fascinated by that kind of stuff."
"Then go for it!" Gary beamed. "It sounds like it could be an amazing opportunity for you, and something that could really make you happy, Stan. You deserve to take that chance." He lowered his head but kept his eyes on Stan, and he found himself gazing at Gary's mouth. "And for what it's worth, I think you'd be great."
"Thanks, Gary..." Stan smiled.
"No problem."
Their eyes met, and Stan's smile wobbled. In fact, when he was the subject of Gary's stare he felt giddy all over, wondering what exactly he was contemplating with those warm, thoughtful eyes... especially when Gary's gaze wandered to his mouth. Stan told himself not to get carried away. His eyebrows drew together, puzzled, when Gary's stare hardened.
"What?" Stan asked, the word falling from his lips.
Pulled away from his thoughts, Gary smiled.
"You've just got some ice cream..."
He pointed to Stan's mouth, before swiping a blob of ice cream off his lip with his index finger. Stan's breath hitched and his lips parted at the gentle, fleeting touch. It was like Gary had flipped a switch to drain the island of oxygen, and Stan flushed unbearably in the stifling heat. He hoped he could blame it on sunburn.
"There," Gary said, before licking the offending blob off his finger. "All better."
Stan had no idea what to say in return, his mind melting just as fast as the ice cream. He could barely understand how such a swift, chaste touch could make him lose himself like that, let alone formulate a reply. So he just chuckled instead, faint and short, and a smile spread across his face before he could stop it. Gary returned a smile, before doubt clouded his eyes for the first time today and he looked at the sidewalk, wiping his own mouth. Discovering a slight in Gary's otherwise easy-going exterior was somewhat unnerving for Stan.
"Shoot!" Gary said, catching sight of his watch. "I gotta get to the church."
"Oh," Stan replied, his voice still at that faint octave. He nodded. "Okay..."
"Do you wanna come listen to the service?"
Admittedly, Stan wasn't ready to part with Gary yet despite their brief moment of uncomfortable friction. But sitting at the back of the church, listening to a service he didn't believe would make him feel like an incredible hypocrite, and bring back some unpleasant childhood memories of wrecking their first tentative attempt at friendship.
"No thanks, Gary, I'll, uh, think I'll stay here."
"You sure?" Gary asked, arching a concerned eyebrow. "You'll make it back to the hotel okay?"
"Definitely," Stan replied, waving him off. "I'll be fine."
Gary smiled tightly and nodded.
"Alright, I'll see you later." He exhaled and his smile loosened, content and handsome. "It's been great catching up, Stan."
"Yeah..." Stan nodded, brightening. "Yeah, it really has."
Gary raised his hand and waved, before walking away when Stan wasn't entirely sure he had nothing more to say to him. Panic needled at his heart, of this being their last encounter when it was too soon. Everything between them always ended too soon, and Stan wanted to break that cycle.
"Wait!"
Stan gulped when Gary turned around, fidgeting.
"Do you wanna meet up for a drink later?"
Gary's eyes seemed to light up, his brow twitching at the pleasant surprise.
"That would be great but, uh, I don't drink," he replied.
"Me neither-" Stan rolled his eyes at the eager words rolling off his nervous tongue. Gary didn't seem to mind, patient and amused. "I mean, I do drink. But not a lot, seeing my dad make a complete idiot out of himself when I was a kid, and uh, couple of bad experiences with whiskey has put me off the stuff."
Gary laughed and nodded.
"Well, alright. How about I pick you up from the hotel around eight?"
Stan smiled, resisting the urge to puff out his chest.
"Awesome." He nodded. "I'll see you then."
"See you later, Stan," Gary said, before walking away.
Stan watched, admiring Gary's shoulders and confident stride when all the while his mind was wandering to where they would go, and what he should wear, even though he knew he was over-thinking something that was strictly platonic. It had to be. Despite how much they perhaps both wanted this to be anything but. Still, friendship was always a good foundation to build something spectacular on, no matter how long it took. He was snapped out of his thoughts when something cool dripped onto his toe.
"Shit!" Stan muttered, when he saw that his ice cream had almost completely melted, and was running down his fingers.
"So no piercings, no tattoos, what else?"
Gary had taken them to one of those empty bars, that was now packed with people laughing, singing, and dancing to the cool, softly played music courtesy of the live band. Stan was amazed at what nightfall could do to a town so small. But he and Gary were refraining from the merriment, instead choosing to catch up at the cosy table for two by the window, overlooking the now dark, shimmering sea. When Gary had returned to their table with Stan's icy beer and his 'soda on the rocks' Stan became suddenly curious as to what other things were prohibited, that Gary had to abstain from... he was looking for insight, yes, but maybe also a chance. He was more willing to acknowledge that now, with a beer in his hand.
"Hmm..." Gary pondered. "No facial hair-"
"Seriously?"
"Yep, missionaries can't grow out beards. You need to be clean-shaven at all times. They're kinda picky about growing your hair out too."
"So is that your way of rebelling?" Stan asked, gesturing to Gary's hair.
Gary laughed softly to himself and tucked some behind his ear.
"Simon and Todd are pretty laid-back, and that's the kind of atmosphere we want to create in the church, you know?" he replied. "I mean, my church in Utah was pretty friendly and open, but if you didn't look like everybody else then you had to deal with people judging you. When you're an adult you can get over that stuff, but when you're a teenager, and you're trying to experiment, your parents could easily convince you that it's better to fit in."
"But then you're trying to fit into two different worlds, right?" Stan asked. "Like, what you would wear to church is different to what you would wear to school, or a party, isn't it?"
Gary shook his head.
"Not at my high school. We all dressed the same, and our parties were pretty tame, there was always some adult supervision."
Stan furrowed his eyebrows at how unimaginable that was to him.
"That sounds..."
"What?" Gary asked, shoulders slouching with an exasperated smile.
Stan wanted to defy Gary's expectation, and show that he wasn't as ignorant as he used to be. Who was he to judge when Gary seemed to turn out perfectly fine from this strange version of youth? Perfect being the operative word... Maybe all those stupid, embarrassing things Stan had done at teenage parties wouldn't have happened with some adult supervision?
"Different."
Gary shrugged.
"I never thought so, It was what I was used to. And some things... you can live without. My faith kind of fills the holes of everything I'm 'missing out on.'"
"I don't know, you still push the limits. Like, with your hair." Stan grinned. "Your parents don't say anything about it when you go home, do they?"
Stan took a sip of his beer as he waited for Gary's answer.
"No, they've never really seen my hair long like this," he replied, playing with his hair while avoiding Stan's eyes. "I haven't visited Utah since I got here."
Stan raised his eyebrows, remembering how loving, and close, and perfect the Harrison family were. A rift between Gary and his parents seemed even more unimaginable than a dry house party.
"So you haven't seen your parents in nine years?"
"Nope," Gary replied matter-of-factly. "I call them every day, but I haven't gone back to Utah."
"Why?" Stan found himself asking, before it even occurred to him this was perhaps a subject better left dropped. "Um, sorry if that's a little personal..."
Gary shook his head and waved the apology off. Stan was starting to wonder if he'd ever let him be sorry for anything.
"No, no, I just... something has always kept me busy here, that I just couldn't leave," he explained. "Plus, I love this place and I know that if I went back home my parents would nag me about coming back for good and settling down, since that's what RMs do."
"RMs?"
"'Returned Missionaries'. Once missionaries come home, we're supposed to get married and start a family, but I don't want that. I've never wanted that. But I would also hate to let my family down, and if I came home and told them that they'd be crushed. Besides, it's..." Gary shook his head, frustration simmering beneath his sunny, handsome features. "It's not as easy as they think it is. It's hard to meet people."
"Yeah, especially when you're handsome and talented," Stan quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
Gary looked up from his drink, smirking and eyes glimmering once more. Stan just chuckled, in disbelief he had said that out loud, and felt heat crawl up his throat. Was he actually flirting with him? Could Gary see that? Or could he just compartmentalise it and ignore it? Another thing he seemed to have mastered.
"It's true!" Gary laughed. "A lot of RMs find it hard to adjust to normal life when they come home. It takes a lot of rewiring. Ever since we were kids we're told to abstain from dating, from romance, from..." he rolled his eyes and made a vague gesture with his hand. "You know... and then we're just supposed to forget all that so we can find someone to start a family with? And then you're playing catch-up, because, during that time of our lives when people our age are dating, and having their first serious relationships, we're doing our mission work and we're just completely clueless." He sighed, and circled the rim of his glass. "At least I am..."
Stan frowned. How could somebody as kind, and talented, and good-hearted as Gary be made to feel inadequate? Why should he have to settle for a life he didn't want and sacrifice a life, a place that made him incredibly happy?
"Well... what is normal, anyway?" Stan replied. "Being here makes you happy, and you do great work, and you're enjoying life and..." he sighed. To him, Gary had achieved everything he could have hoped for. He shouldn't be made to feel like it was nothing. "That's worth so much more than 'fitting in', Gary, trust me."
Gary looked up from his drink, searching Stan's face.
"You think so?"
Stan smiled, humbled, and nodded.
"Of course I do."
Gary returned the smile, tight and grateful.
"Thanks, Stan."
"No problem," he replied, taking a sip of beer.
He realised then, that even if the only thing he shared with Gary before he left was that piece of advice, he would be content.
Ever the gentleman, Gary had offered to walk Stan back to the hotel at the end of the evening, and if Stan didn't know any better he would have described this as a great first date. He had never so desperately wanted a night to continue. Luckily, Gary seemed to feel the same way when he took them on a detour to the beach, because Stan just had to see it at night. Of course he had already experienced how wonderful and vibrant the island could be once the sun had set, but the rippling night sky reflected on the waves, and the sand glowing silver in the moonlight was so beautiful it seemed to silence the whole world.
"Wow..." Stan whispered. "You were right. It really is beautiful."
"Isn't it?" Gary replied, soft like he didn't want to disturb it. "Especially now. It's so peaceful. We have the entire beach to ourselves."
Stan hoped the night concealed his smile. The setting, the solitude still seemed so promising and exciting, even though Stan was sure he had resigned himself to the fact this couldn't lead anywhere. But did that mean he had been imagining those lingering, thoughtful looks he had caught Gary giving him that defied explanation? Were his stories really that interesting or was Gary engrossed for a different reason entirely? Didn't Gary seem to embrace and bask in his flirty comments easily liberated under the influence of alcohol instead of disarm and ignore them? Stan didn't know what to believe anymore, but just like this detour to the beach, he would follow Gary's lead.
"Look at the sea!" Gary added, pointing at the twinkling waves. "I wish I had my board. It's so inviting I could just dive right in."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because I've got nothing to wear."
"So?" Stan asked, out of his mouth before he could stop it. Why did his thoughts seem to run away from him when Gary was around? "You've never been skinny-dipping before?"
Gary chuckled and looked to the sky, shaking his head.
"No..."
Of course he hasn't.
"Well... nobody is going to see you except me..."
Stan had no idea why he was trying to persuade him, or why he even suggested the idea in the first place. Maybe he wasn't so resigned after all. That flicker of hope was a stronger flame than he first thought, that he just couldn't stamp out easily.
"You would join me though, right?" Gary asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Sure I would!" Stan laughed. "I wouldn't let you go in alone."
Gary still seemed unconvinced though, and Stan didn't want to make him uncomfortable.
"But, if you, uh, don't want to, that's fine. If it's weird for you, we can just-"
"No, let's do it," Gary cut him off, taking a bracing breath as he looked at the sea then returned his gaze to Stan. "This is looking like a night of firsts, so I may as well go with it."
Stan smiled, that typical breeziness Gary exhibited seemed to be so at odds with all the restrictions he needed to place on himself.
"Alright," Stan replied, smile fading when it suddenly dawned on him he would have to get undressed. A more sensible part of him was cursing himself for opening his mouth. "So, I, uh, guess we should..."
Stan finished the sentence by popping open a button on his shirt. It was a tentative invitation for Gary to do the same, and was received with a cautious, earnest look of trust. He lifted his t-shirt over his head to reveal a white undervest, and Stan had to tear his eyes away from his tanned, muscular arms. His fingers were quivering as he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt.
Silence returned to the beach as they continued to undress, and when Stan let his shirt fall to the sand he shivered at the cool breeze bristling against his bare shoulders. Glancing at Gary, he saw that the vest had been removed, as well as his jeans, and Stan raked his gaze over pale, pink nipples, humble abs... and pursed his lips when he reached white, knee-length boxer shorts. Still, they only served to make Gary more adorable. Suddenly, their eyes met and Stan flushed and turned away as if they had both committed an invasion of privacy, when there seemed to be nowhere to hide on the beach. He went about taking off his own pants, vowing not to look at Gary until he spoke to him. The fabric pooled around his ankles and he stepped out of them.
He was stood in just his underwear now, toes curling in the sand, and he didn't even want to entertain the thought of Gary being naked beside him. It would've been a sultry, harmless enough fantasy if Stan was lying in bed already, staring up at the ceiling with his hands down his pants... but now the reality just terrified him. They would both be exposed, both vulnerable, and Stan would feel like he had let Gary down - confident enough to suggest the idea, but standing there awkwardly when the time came. Taking a shallow breath, Stan pushed his boxers down his hips and watched them fall to the ground. He daren't look up.
"Ready?" he asked, still preoccupied by the ground as he kicked his boxers off his ankles.
"Ready!" A voice called from further down the beach.
When Stan looked up he saw Gary already running to the shore, and he laughed, dazed and distracted by the undeniably pleasant view. Emboldened, Stan followed him, sand flying from beneath his feet as he jogged to the shore. Gary was already wading through the crashing waves by the time Stan was walking on soaked sand. The cool water wrapped around his ankles, tempting to pull him in as if it were conspiring with the siren figure Gary appeared to be – laughing, and grinning, and catching the light reflected from the piercing moon above.
"Come on!" he laughed, previous inhibitions clearly forgotten.
Stan smiled, figuring he could do the same. He walked in, and soon the water was lapping at his knees, his thighs, his hips and waist, and finally Gary was in front of him. If Stan didn't know any better he would've thought it was a dream. His feet barely touched the ground, his body was rocked by the sea as gentle as a lullaby, and Gary was glistening, and bare, smiling at him and close enough to touch. Gary extended no invitation to actually do so, however, and Stan didn't want to shatter the perfect moment by being presumptuous. He just smiled and admired Gary like a work of art, like he was another beautiful facet to the island. He was snapped out of his reverie when salty water collided with his face. He coughed, the salt prickling his skin. He could taste it on his lips and it dripped from his brow. The sound of Gary's delighted laughter turned Stan's attention to him, and he had a mischievous gleam in his eye that was new to Stan, as well as pleasing.
Dragging his hand through the water he splashed Gary too, and soon the pair were paddling further out to sea; chasing, and diving, and splashing each other. The waves grew louder and stronger the further they swam, as if the sea were reprimanding them for spoiling the island's quiet with their helpless, contented laughter. But who else would hear them except the fish, and birds, who never judged? Oddly, with the water skimming their shoulders and the shore in the distance, Stan had never felt so safe, so liberated in Gary's company. He wondered if Gary felt the same or, just like when he came out here to surf, was he thinking of nothing beyond the two of them? The heavy, impatient tide pushed them closer together, knees, shoulders and foreheads touching. Stan would have felt embarrassed, if the water wasn't providing them some modesty, if his clothes weren't forgotten on the sand. If Gary wasn't smiling like his nudity didn't faze him at all.
"Hi," Gary said the only word that seemed oddly appropriate.
"Hi..." Stan laughed, before realising he had yet to move away. He put some space between them. "Sorry..."
Gary rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't disappear.
"This is, like, the third time today that you've apologised to me."
"Oh," Stan whispered, flushing instantly. "Sorry..."
Stan shook his head and Gary mimicked him, with pursed lips and eyes brimming with bright endearment. It made Stan's skin flare even hotter, his heart drifting out to sea. Gary lifted his hand out of the water, and Stan jolted when he rested his palm on his cheek. If this was Gary's way of calming him it wasn't working. Stan's heart was thundering in his chest, but he didn't want this to end.
"I'm so glad you're here, Stan."
"Me too."
"This has been..." Gary paused, his eyes roaming Stan's face. "The most fun night of my life.
Stan nodded, hypnotised.
"Yeah, it's been pretty great."
He could have sank into Gary's arms when he started to brush his skin with his thumb, but while Gary's smile didn't waver, the gleam in his eyes had diminished. In fact, they seemed quite forlorn, and his touch, though gentle and affectionate, was weighted by a thoughtfulness Gary was perhaps unaccustomed to surrendering to when he was out here. The only way to lift that weight, Stan realised, was for Gary to speak his mind, to release those thoughts before they became malignant.
"You alright?" he asked. "What are you thinking about?"
Gary shook his head, like he hadn't realised he'd been doing it, like he was in a trance as well.
"I... I, I don't know, I just... being here with you..." Gary paused, struggling with the truth. He looked at his reflection in the water, defeated, but Stan was still searching his face, silently pleading for his confession. He blinked when Gary's earnest eyes met his. "Maybe this is what I've always wanted."
"R-r-really?" Stan asked, stuttering with disbelief.
Gary nodded, his thumb stroking Stan's cheek again in confirmation.
"Yeah..." he whispered, smiling. "Yeah, I think so."
The words were right out of the fantasies Stan had been surrendering to all day, and it seemed that Gary had surrendered too, to a force that was bigger than him; desire. Stan could feel it, hefty and debilitating between the two of them. This was his chance. Gary's hand was trembling at his cheek, and he was quivering too. He gulped, and with lidded eyes leaned forward, closing the gap between them.
"If you want it, Gary..." Stan could feel Gary's hot, raged breath on his lips. His voice had disintegrated into a whisper. "You can have it."
His head may have been whirring, his mind melting, but in his haze Stan realised that he had to play this just right; slow and careful. Right now, this was too precarious to lose, to drop with eager, shaking hands. Their lips met, tasting of salt, and Stan applied the gentlest pressure, knowing that – no matter how much it pained him – Gary could pull away with a thousand, stammering apologies. He would be ready for that, he would accept it and tend to his disappointment alone. But instead Gary opened his mouth and welcomed Stan's kiss, tilting his head to sample more of his lips and cupping his other cheek. Stan smothered a gasp, keening to Gary's touch when his fingers dragged through his hair. Emboldened, heart running away with risk, he pushed his tongue into Gary's mouth and found his hips beneath the water, pressing them closer together. Their kiss deepened, passionate, but with an innocence and tenderness Stan had forgotten about, and couldn't get enough of now.
"I..." Gary gasped. "I, I've never done this before."
"What?" Stan chuckled. "Made out in the sea?"
He leaned forward to reconnect their lips but Gary turned away.
"No, I mean, I, I've never kissed anyone like this before."
Although maybe it was to be expected, Stan was shocked. Kissing just seemed to be another activity Gary excelled at, another talent he had mastered. Smiling, Stan pressed their foreheads together and found Gary's eyes.
"You're doing great," he said, giving him another peck. "Believe me."
Gary moaned, readily kissing Stan again and he returned the kiss with the same enthusiasm. Soon, curious, Gary pecked Stan's chin, before lowering his head and kissing his neck. Moaning, Stan tipped his head back, any tension in his body melted away under the smouldering warmth of Gary's tentative, plush kisses. Still, he clutched him tightly under the water, digging his fingers into soft flesh, and if he could find his voice he would have told Gary not to stop.
"I can't believe this is happening..." Gary murmured, ragged and giddy into Stan's neck. "I never forgot about you, Stan... You're the first person I ever-" he stopped himself, nuzzling Stan like he could bury his confession under his skin. "I thought about you all the time..."
Gary's earnest words, bursting with a longing that had stewed for years, were just as dizzying as his kisses. Stan wished he could return the sentiment, cursed himself for how easily he could forget Gary. But he was a kid then, and the regretful ending of his and Gary's friendship had left his pride charred. Still, he remembered the quiet excitement he had kept to himself when their friendship was still promising, that feeling of awe that soon eclipsed envy when he realised just how incredible of a person Gary was.
Reality pierced his lusty haze when he felt something hard pressing against him under the water. For the first time in a long time, Stan was clueless as to how he should proceed. Should he acknowledge it? Would Gary want him to? What would his reaction be? This was still so delicate, so fragile. But Stan had seemed to awaken a passion and boldness in Gary that made him brave enough to accept his invitation to skinny-dipping, to seize what he had wanted for so long. And besides, Stan was unravelling under the press of Gary's gorgeous lips, didn't he deserve a little pleasure too? Some – clearly – much needed release?
He decided to stop deliberating, stop thinking – Gary never did when he was out here – and reach under the water, finding Gary's cock and wrapping his fingers around it.
"Aaah, Stan!" Gary cried, arching into the touch.
His name had never sounded sweeter.
"Do you like that?" Stan asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.
Gary nodded, encouraging Stan to keep pumping harder and faster. The soft groans of newly discovered, different kind of rapture that fell from Gary's lips fuelled Stan's own arousal, but he wasn't concerned with that right now. All he wanted was to bring Gary into ecstasy. When Gary stiffened, whimpered, moved his hands to Stan's shoulders and squeezed, Stan assumed he was close. But then he realised Gary wasn't trying to pull him closer, he was trying to push him away.
"Stop..." he moaned. "Stan, please..."
"Huh?"
"Stop, please stop!" Gary pleaded.
Stan snatched his hand away, horrified, and shame curdled his arousal.
"Gary, I'm sorry, it's okay-"
"No." Gary shook his head, backing away from Stan and staring at his fractured reflection. "No, it's not. This... th-th-this is wrong..."
He was shivering, as if the water had become icy. The pink, passionate flush of his skin now paled into terrified white, and his eyes widened. Stan wished Gary would look at him, so he could reassure him everything would be alright. He wished he could touch him again without making him flinch.
"But it's not wrong! Gary, trust me, there's nothing wrong with-"
"I need to go," Gary cut in, before swimming away from Stan and heading to the shore.
Stan felt just as frozen as Gary had looked, hurt and in disbelief that Gary had abandoned him.
"Gary! Gary, wait!"
Stan began to follow him, tried to catch up with him, but Gary was an impressive swimmer. By the time Stan reached the shore, Gary was already getting dressed. Stan was panting as he walked towards Gary, both with exhaustion and a frustration he thought he had buried and put to rest a long time ago, that he could rise above now that he and Gary were embarking on a better, more mature friendship. But it was buried in a shallow grave, and had never had peace. Only when Stan was reunited with Gary did he realise he still had so much left to say.
"Gary, can we please talk?" Stan asked, nearing him.
He had put his underwear on, his vest and boxers, and was now slipping his t-shirt over his head.
"I'm sorry, Stan. I, I, I shouldn't have led you on like that," he replied, still refusing to turn around and face him. "I don't know what came over me, but it wasn't your fault, I just... I just need to get back on track. I just need to get back on track and turn off these thoughts in my head."
Stan scowled, hating that Gary didn't even have the guts to face him, that he could so easily shove his desire to the side and ignore it forever. That he could ignore him, after all those wonderful things he had said to him that he knew were true.
"Can you do that?"
"Yeah, sure, it's easy." Gary shrugged. "I've been doing it for years. You don't need to worry about me, Stan."
"But I am fucking worried about you!"
Turns out all Stan needed to do was curse to get Gary's attention. He looked over his shoulder, and Stan stood firmer in an attempt to appear more confident, fortified. But he was still naked, and he hurriedly grabbed his boxers from his pile of clothes.
"This isn't healthy, Gary!" he continued, starting to get dressed. "You can't keep denying things you want... things that are normal, and that are a part of who you are because some guy in a book tells you to!"
"That's my religion, Stan!" Gary replied, turning to face him fully now. "It's the most important thing to me, it's... it's what's guided me throughout my entire life, and I'm proud of it! Doing what we did out there?" He shook his head, grimacing. "It's like a betrayal of everything I know is right! Of what I was raised to believe!"
"So running away from your fears is right?" Stan challenged, stepping towards him. But a different tension was pulled taut between them. "Running away from your family, and your identity is right? That's what that book teaches you?"
Gary shook his head and rolled his eyes.
"Would it kill you just once to have some respect for my faith?" he muttered.
"Fine!" Stan shouted. "It's just... it's hard to have respect for something that's holding you back like this!"
Gary balked, wide eyes flitting back and forth.
"It's never held me back-"
"But it has!" Stan cried, his voice straining with frustration. "You can tell me otherwise, but I know you're not really happy! I could see it in your eyes before we kissed! Despite everything else you believe, wouldn't God want you to be happy? Wouldn't He want you to be true to yourself?"
Gary scoffed, shook his head and raked his gaze over Stan.
"I think it's pretty rich that now you're so concerned with what Heavenly Father wants for me. How would you even know what He wants, Stan?"
Stan didn't. He only knew what he wanted, and yes, that was for Gary to be happy, without having to deny himself, without shame. But he also wanted Gary, and for a peerless, euphoric moment in the sea he thought he had achieved that. He sighed.
"I don't know... but I thought you wanted me, out there you said you wanted me."
"I know I did, and that was wrong," Gary replied, meeting Stan's eyes and trying to be measured. "I wasn't thinking, I... wh-when I'm out there, I, I, I don't think. You can't expect me to choose between my religion and you-"
"No, I guess I can't," Stan cut in, folding his arms across his chest and avoiding Gary's eyes. "Because we both know who the fucking winner would be."
"I can't believe I thought you had changed," Gary replied, and the contempt in his voice was hard to ignore. Stan never thought he would hear him talk like that.
When he looked at him, he saw that Gary's eyes were gleaming with tears.
"Good night, Stan," he said, before walking away.
Stunned and fuming, Stan didn't reply. He continued to dress, but the beach wasn't so quiet anymore. Gary's parting words in his mind were deafening.
Stan hated that he was due to leave without saying goodbye to Gary, or without a chance to apologise to him. After that night on the beach he had been keeping to himself, telling himself that this trip was about being alone with his thoughts so he could figure out what he really wanted from life. But he soon became bored, and restless, especially when his mind always drifted back to that night on the beach, his justifications for his behaviour waning thin. Indignation had curdled into embarrassment now, and he was angrier with himself than Gary. He may not have understood Gary's devotion to his faith, but he could at least respect it, and he knew he would never get Gary's respect in turn if he continued to undermine his beliefs.
At the bar Stan thought he could be content leaving the island – and Gary – if his advice was the only thing they shared, but in the sea, with Gary in his arms, he became greedier, wanting Gary too. Now he realised that he would rather leave the island with Gary's forgiveness than nothing at all. Maybe that was what he had needed for years? But forgiveness wasn't granted without apology.
He was now stood at the back of the crowded church, watching a group of kids re-enact a scene from the Book of Mormon in homemade costumes. He stood there with folded arms, and a bowed head, not wanting to draw attention to himself when he felt so nervous that his voice seemed to have shrunk in his throat. Still, he had smiled whenever Gary spoke to the congregation, or quietly congratulated the kids off stage for their performances. He was a comfortable, dreamy distraction and Stan felt silly for even feeling the slightest bit anxious around him.
The service came to an end, and Stan exchanged polite smiles with the departing crowd, shifting from the door so as not to block anyone's path. Everyone seemed chatty, enthused, feeling good about the hour that they had spent at the church. Stan could have almost forgotten his reservations. Who was he to judge what brought people joy and comfort?
"Hi!" A familiar voice pulled Stan out of his thoughts and released the butterflies in his stomach. He moved away from the wall when Gary approached him.
"Didn't think I would see you here," Gary said, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was still happy to see him, after everything that had happened. It emboldened Stan. "How long have you been hanging out at the back?"
"An hour?" Stan shrugged, and sighed. Honestly, it felt amazing to be stood in front of him again, to be cast in his cheerful glow, even if the dark circles under his eyes suggested everything hadn't been so sunny for him lately. "The service was great, Gary."
Gary snickered, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.
"Thanks, but I can't take all the credit. The other guys do an amazing job. I couldn't do it without them."
"Well, I'm glad I got to see you in action before I left," Stan replied, taking a deep, bracing breath. "My boat is arriving in an hour or so..."
Gary blinked, his brow knitted.
"Oh... really?"
It was the first time Stan saw him frown, in daylight at least, and it weighed heavily on his heart.
"Yeah, I..." he shook his head, teeth gritted. Why was this so hard to say? He sighed. "Look, Gary, I just want to-"
"Why don't we go outside?" Gary cut in.
Stan nodded, anything to make this easier. Gary led them outside, and the fresh, humid air was faint relief for Stan's nerves. They both leaned against the porch, looking out over the colourful street, and the azure strip that distinguished the sea from the sky in the distance. Over the soft hum of traffic, you could still hear the conversations of the now dispersed congregation heading home.
"You were saying?" Gary said, breezy as always.
Stan blinked, shaking his head. When Gary made everything seem so simple, Stan could have forgotten why they were out here in the first place.
"Oh, yeah, I just... I just wanted to apologise for what happened the other night on the beach." Stan became nervous again when he saw Gary nod solemnly, uncomfortably. "It's just that everything happened so fast, and I was so confused... but I was disrespectful and selfish too, I realise that now. Honestly, your dedication to your faith is really wonderful, and, it's clearly working for you." Stan sighed. Adoration tugged the corners of his mouth into a smile. "You're so inspiring, Gary, and I would hate to miss out on being your friend."
All the honesty and apprehension were worth it, when Stan's words seemed to light up Gary's face so beautifully.
"Wow, that's..." he shook his head, his smile widening. "That's amazing, Stan, thank you so much."
"No problem," Stan murmured, suddenly sheepish.
"I haven't stopped thinking about that night," Gary admitted. "I've been going over and over it in my head. But all that obsessing made me realising something... you were right."
More words straight out of Stan's wildest dreams. He was hiding his surprise poorly, but Gary didn't seem to mind. He just laughed and nodded.
"Yeah, you were right," he continued. "I'm not happy. At least, not one hundred percent happy, and that isn't good enough, right? I've felt this way for so long that I just accepted it as normal. But then when I saw you again, I remembered how it felt to be a kid, and not care, and not have to sacrifice your feelings..." his smile wavered, replaced by something more earnest. "I love my religion, but I want more than that. It's like I've been living with this unbalance, this all-or-nothing way of thinking, but that's only a half-life, isn't it? It's not living life to the full."
"So what are you gonna do?" Stan asked, enthralled and delighted. He wasn't even thinking of himself, but what wonderful opportunities were open to Gary now that he was accepting a happiness he deserved.
"I'm not sure yet... but I know I have to do some thinking," Gary replied, steely with determination. "Real, honest thinking. I've been burying my thoughts for so long, that accepting and acknowledging them now is overwhelming. But I have to do it. It's the only way I'm going to figure out a compromise between my religion and my sexuality, where I can follow my faith and embrace my identity, to figure out who I am separately from my religion and stop punishing myself."
"I'm so proud of you, Gary." Stan was beaming so much that his cheeks were hurting. "This is going to be so great for you."
"Thank you." Gary nodded with a shy, tight smile. "I hope so. I hope you can be a part of it, Stan. If you want to..."
Stan blinked, in disbelief that he was being offered such an invitation. He grinned, stepped closer.
"Really?"
"Yeah," Gary replied, cool as ever. "It would be a shame for us to lose contact for another nineteen years."
Stan rolled his eyes and laughed. Had they really not spoken for that long? It seemed impossible.
"Totally," he agreed.
"Can I have your number?"
"Sure," Stan replied, readily reaching into his shorts pocket for his phone.
"I'm thinking about coming home for Christmas," Gary said as they exchanged numbers. "Maybe we can meet up then?"
"Like, a date?"
Stan regretted the presumptuous words as soon as they came out of his mouth, his face burning. Gary looked at his phone screen as he tried to figure out how to respond.
"S-s-sorry, I, I don't know why I said that-"
"It's fine," Gary assured. "It's just that... don't get me wrong, I would love to go out on a date with you." He smiled, and Stan knew it was genuine. "But I don't know if it's such a good idea, right now. It's going to take me a while to get used to this. I don't expect you to wait for me, Stan, but my feelings for you will never go away. So can we just take it slow for now?"
"We can do whatever you want," Stan replied, smiling too and looking into Gary's eyes so he knew he meant it.
Putting his phone back in his pocket, Gary pulled Stan close to him and wrapped him up in his arms. Stan soon sank into embrace, savouring the feeling of Gary's warm skin beneath his shirt, and those strong arms holding him. He smiled, despite how long he would have to wait to hug Gary again, because at least now he knew this wouldn't be the last time. In the humidity, goosebumps rose on his skin when he felt hot, soft lips place a kiss behind his ear.
"I'll miss you," Gary whispered, lips brushing against his skin.
Stan nodded, eyes drifting shut as he gave Gary a gentle squeeze.
"I'll miss you too," he replied, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I'm so glad I came here."
Gary nodded.
"Me too."
Who would ever have thought, when they came to this beautiful island searching for a new direction, that their paths would lead right back to each other?
