Revelations – Chapter Two

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Summary: Kyle has Stan. But what will Stan's friends think?

Notes: Well, this is officially a small story. I figure five or six parts. The reason detracts from the actual story, so I'm not gonna tell you XD. Figure it out LOL.

-.-

I'm starting to worry about when Stan will ever be comfortable with me. It's been six months since "That Night," as we've taken to referring to it in private. All we've done since then is kiss. And always just in the privacy of our bedrooms. He will NOT risk being seen, and nothing I can do can convince him otherwise. I know I've got to do something to light a fire under him to come clean to the rest of the world.

These past few months have been absolute torture on me. Stan absolutely forbade me from doing ANYTHING that he thought would tip anyone off. No kissing him, no happy waving, no grabbing onto him, no hanging onto him, no hugging him, NOTHING.

He won't even kiss me in the bathroom. Or behind the bleachers. Or in his car. Nowhere where he can be seen. Because the star quarterback of South Park High CAN'T be gay in public. He says that every time I bring it up, like it would be a fucking crime to be seen with me in public. He has a reputation to protect, and I think he still harbors a bit of resentment towards me for showing him that he loves me, because now he has to lie to both himself and everyone else every day, and hurts him.

I think I understand his fears though. He DOES have too much at stake to come out in South Park, really. I love the boy to death, but his reputation shouldn't matter when it comes to who he loves. I want him to come to his senses and realize this, but I won't force him to. I can wait for him. I don't like being second-best, but it's STAN. He's the one I want to be with forever. I'll do anything for him, and if that includes waiting an indefinite amount of time for him to admit his feelings outside of our bedrooms, so be it.

The door to the locker room opening distracts me from my thoughts. I've been waiting for him to come out of football practice for a while. Just leaning up against a row of lockers and thinking, dreaming about Stan, the usual, really.

My heart dances when he strides out of the locker room, his still-wet hair shining and hanging down over his eyes. I smile when he notices me.

"Hey dude," he says, coming over to where I'm leaning. "Sorry to keep you waiting…Coach wanted to work on a few new plays for the Conifer game on Friday."

"It's no biggie," I say, shrugging it off. "Do you wanna head home?" As I ask this, I get behind him and rest my chin on his shoulder, my arms encircling his waist, teasing.

He freezes, and I feel his light-hearted mood evaporate beneath my touch. "Dude!" he hisses. "The others are still in there, they –" He's interrupted by the locker room door opening again, and a large group of boys emerging to see my arms around Stan.

"OH – MAH – GAWD!" comes the astonished shout of Eric Cartman. Oh no…not Cartman! Why him?

"Quick, guys! Get the faggeh Jew before he corrupts Stan!" he shouts, and suddenly I'm ripped away from Stan and borne away by at least five other football players. There's Cartman in front, Craig and Clyde on my arms, and Token and Kevin on my legs. They're taking me somewhere…I can't see Stan anywhere.

The next thing I know, I'm being slammed up against the cafeteria wall.

"So, Jewfag, corrupt OUR quarterback, will you!?!" Cartman shouts, punching me in the stomach. Unfortunately, because Craig and Clyde are still holding me up against the wall, I can't even double over.

"I wasn't trying to corrupt him!" I respond. "I mean, sure, I love him, but I was just goofing around!" That just gets me another punch, this time to the balls. Son of a bitch that hurts!

"You know what happens to fags in this school, right, Kahl?" Cartman asks, punching me in the face. There's a crack as my nose breaks, and I start tasting blood in my mouth from a busted lip.

"WHAT fags? There's only me!" I say. I've never known of any other gay people in our school…

"Kenneh! We killed him." Oh, God…are they gonna kill me? Please…no…I don't wanna die a virgin! And I don't wanna die when my life will have no meaning…Stan'll just go back to girls quicker than Cartman goes from the main course to dessert!

Putting on a sense of bravado, I choke out a reply. "So what? People kill Kenny all the time!"

"I know that, fag!" Cartman shouts, punching me again. "That's not the point! The point is, we hurt him! And that's what we do! We'll break every bone in your body if you don't shut the fuck up!"

As he says this, I catch a glimpse of black hair in the cafeteria door window. It's Stan…his head slowly pops up so that he's looking in. Closing my mouth, I allow Cartman, Token, and Kevin to pummel me while I stare into his eyes. He winces every time I do. Only it's worse for him. If he wanted, he could come in and beat the crap out of all of these assholes. But doing that would make them think he's faggy too, and that's something he can't have.

Finally, they either tire or get bored of beating me, and allow me to slide to the floor as they leave out the other door. I wait for their loud footsteps and bragging voices to die down before I turn my aching head to the door Stan's still staring at.

"You can come out of hiding now, Stan," I say, and he cautiously opens the door and slides in, running over to me.

"I did it for you, you know," I say, as he runs over to me, running his fingers through my hair and pulling me close to comfort me.

"What?" he asks.

"I know how much your reputation means to you, so I'll take that so you can keep that reputation," I say. His eyes are blurry with guilty tears. He knows he's betrayed me. He knows he doesn't deserve a person as selfless as I am. Someone who'll allow people to beat them up just to protect the REPUTATION of the person they love.

"Look what I've done to you! This was a mistake!" he says.

"No it's not! I did it for you! So you can keep the thing that's most precious to you!! See, I'll do and take ANYTHING for you, because I love you."

He begins crying now. It seems that every time I tell him that, he begins crying, because he doesn't deserve it. Every time I tell him that, he does something he tells me later that he REALLY didn't want to do. That's how I got him, telling him I love him and making him question his sexuality. The only way I got him to take a little risk when kissing me, by leaving the door unlocked, was by telling him I love him.

I have to readjust us, causing a sharp pain to shoot through my upper body, to allow Stan to sob into my shoulder. How ironic is this? The bruised and bloodied-up boy is comforting the boy who allowed this to happen to him.

"Kyle…I'll beat them up for doing this to you!" he promises me in between sobs. "I'll get back at them."

"Will you tell them why?"

"Why would I have to? You're my best friend, they wouldn't question me why!"

"But that's the thing! I'm more than your best friend! I'm your boyfriend! Why can't your precious football team know about this? What's so bad about having a boyfriend? Why don't you want me? I love you with all my heart, and with everything that I am, but you HAVE to make a choice here! Am I more important to you than your reputation? Or do appearances come first for you?"

His sobs double in intensity. He's done as much as he can to avoid this confrontation. He loves the status quo. But the status quo just isn't an option anymore! It's either he's an incredibly self-centered, Stan-conscious bastard, or he proves that he loves me.

The way he's avoided this for so long is just pathetic. If I could have loved any other boy, and if he loved me too, we wouldn't have waited SIX FUCKING MONTHS to acknowledge this fact! So either he doesn't really love me, or he's a fucking pussy! And I don't want to be in a loveless relationship, or in a relationship with a pussy! If I wanted a girl, I'd fucking get into a relationship with a girl! I want a guy! I want Stan! But if he doesn't want me … it's not like there aren't other guys out there. There are. Stan's not the best looking guy out there, he makes TONS of mistakes, he's not rich … why am I so hung up on STAN MARSH, of all people? I could do better. I know I could. Why love Stan so much?

As I contemplate how I got into this mess, into this relationship with someone who won't acknowledge our relationship, the subject of my musings just…stops. He stops crying, he stops shaking, and he stands up. My gaze follows his rise, and his face is scarily blank. His jaw is set, and there's a determination in his eyes. Without a word, he turns away from me and heads for the same door Cartman and his little gang left through. He clenches his hands into fists as he leaves, leaving me alone on the cold tile floor of the cafeteria.

My heart sinks. He chose his reputation. A relationship with someone he loves and who loves him is less important than being whatever society tells him to be. I can't really say that I'm too surprised that he chose the way he did. He's never really been too secure about being in a relationship with another boy. But…to just leave me, beaten and bruised on the cafeteria floor, without saying a word? It's terrible, absolutely terrible. Why would he do something like that? Does he hate me, for putting him in such a position?

He must, I mean…we've been friends for more than ten years! Doesn't that warrant an "I'm sorry, dude, but I can't do this?" Not even an "I'm sorry." An "It's not you, it's me." Anything! Any apology! Any excuse! I'd take it! Anything would be better than a silent departure, leaving me like this…

Leaving me unable to walk, bruises all over my chest and stomach, a broken nose and a busted lip. I wait until I can comfortably breathe again before I try to pull myself up, using a cafeteria table for support until I reach the door, and stagger down the hallway, supporting myself with lockers, walls, and doors, until I reach the door for the courtyard, that leads to the main sidewalk, which leads to home.

I push open the door and begin to slowly walk down the sidewalk. There's signs of a scuffle over by the fountain. Two unconscious bodies…they look like Craig…yes, there's the hat … and Clyde! And there…propped up against the fountain…

It's Stan! He looks…horrible! He's got bloody wounds all over his head, and his clothes are torn. I can see bruises starting to form on his chest. It takes me forever to register that the boy I love is gravely injured, far worse than me, and maybe even near death, and that I'm just standing here staring. When the shock of this realization passes, I run as best as I can to his side, dropping into a crouch next to him.

Hearing my approach, he turns his head to face me as I drop next to him. With a dazed smile on his face, he tells me that "I did it for you." That it was all for me. That everything is for me.

I'm still stunned. I must be dreaming. I passed out, or was knocked out, back in the cafeteria…this can't be real.

"Do you understand my choice?" he asks, weakly. "Do you understand why I couldn't tell you, Kyle? Do you believe…actions speak louder than words?"

The way he says it, so softly, so gently, because that's the only way he can speak…it moves me to tears. I want to cry. I want to let it all out. I want to hug him so much, but I can't because it might hurt him, with all his cuts and bruises. But more than any of that, I want to kiss him. It would be our first kiss outside of each others homes, I can't think of any place more special, or any more special of a reason, to do it than here, just like this. He's in no position to be resisting such a kiss…hell, it would even answer his question.

Hesitantly, I lean over to kiss him, still a little scared that he may pull back and avoid my lips. To my shock, he actually leans up to meet me midway. It feels so good, despite both of our injuries making our lips sensitive to pressure. I can't resist. I throw myself on him and kiss him passionately. He winces a little at first, but allows himself to kiss and be kissed with as much passion as we've ever mustered at home.

I want to kiss him forever, but we need to get cleaned up and bandaged. Stan seems to read my mind, and asks me to get us home. He says he's tired, and in pain.

"I can't walk…everything hurts," he says. "You'll have to drive." He slowly reaches into his pocket and pulls out his car keys. I'm not in the best of shape either, but I guess I can drive. Helping him up, I allow him to rest against me. He relaxes into my embrace as I guide us to the parking lot and his car, where he takes up residence across his entire back seat and I slowly side into his car and start it up, slowly putting it into gear and pulling out of the lot.

"Whose…house?" Stan asks.

"Mine," I say. "No one's home, and it's closer," continuing my short drive home.

"Do you…have enough Band-Aids? And how're we getting upstairs?" he asks, panting just to ask.

"Overprotective mum, remember?" I ask, putting the car in park, shutting it off, and helping him out of the back seat. "Of course there're enough Band-Aids." I hope we can get upstairs. The LAST thing I want is Mom coming home and seeing us like this. I open the door with Stan still supporting himself on my arms, and we begin making our way up the stairs.

"You know … we'll have to be … naked, right?" he asks, and I blush. "So … we can be sure … nothing's wrong?"

"Well, of course…" I say. "But … I've never … y'know, BEEN naked with you," my blush deepening by the second.

"I understand … dude," he says. "But … c'mon … what can we possibly do?"

If anything my blush deepens. Running through my head are the various scenarios that run through my head of all the things we COULD do in a situation like that. All the things that I'd even LIKE to do in a situation like that. But we CAN'T, because Cartman has to be a bigoted lardass. And drag Craig, Clyde, Token, and Kevin along for the thrills. I hope he gave them all a good shot.

"Dude?" he asks. "The stairs?"

"Right," I say, shaking my head to clear it of all the thoughts I had of him and me, naked and doing things. As I do, I realize – we're barely half-way, and I don't … I don't think I can go any farther.

"Dude? You … all right?"

"No," I say. "I'm not … can you maybe help?"

"I'll … try …" he says, placing one of his arms around my back and under my right arm, and the other on the banister, pushing himself up and pulling me along. To help, I place MY right arm on the little railing along the wall, and my LEFT arm around HIS back and under HIS left arm, and together we push ourselves upstairs, and into my room, where we strip naked and I get him in my bed, before going to bandage him up. Somehow I avoided any really bad cuts, but Stan … Stan requires quite a few bandages.

Once I finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds, I grab a chair and sit by him, stroking his hair, him under the covers, and me back in my pants, having guaranteed that nothing was damaged in the attack.

… Which is how Mom finds us, an hour later.

-.-

END PART TWO

-.-

Notes: I like this one. Should be noted that THIS part was almost all my effort, dialogue wise and such. All Karen did was help me out with the plot. I hope it was an enjoyable surprise!!