South Park © Matt & Trey.

Thanks for nice reviews and such! Enjoy the final piece.


6.

It's Friday now. I wake up and take a shower. I wash my body with soap. I wash my hair with shampoo. I shave my face. I put on a nice suit and in the kitchen, Bebe is cooking.

"Hey," I greet.

"Good morning, babe," she sings. "I'm making breakfast and I packed you and Wendy lunches."

"You're the best," I tell her.

"I know," she smirks playfully.

"How was your date with Kenny?" I ask.

"It was wonderful!" she gushes. "But I'll spare you all the naughty details. Just trust me when I say I had a nice time." She winks at me and I don't need her to say anything more to understand what she means by that.

"Awesome," I say with a laugh.

"So, speaking of dates," she starts, "You've got yours with Kyle tonight, huh?"

I nod. "So weird…"

"It's not that weird," she shrugs, but I just wrinkle my nose in response and a moment later, Wendy enters the room. "Good morning," she says, seeming in good spirits. I always admire children and their ability to get up early without feeling like road-kill.

Bebe smiles at me. "Look, I'll prepare to stay the night, 'kay? If you end up back here, we'll all have a sleepover. If not, then me and Wendy will have our own little sleepover. She'll like it either way."

"I like sleepovers!" Wendy adds somewhat offhandedly as she eats the food Bebe lays out for her.

I let out a sigh and smile warily. "All right, sounds good."

Once we're all done eating, we make our way to the elementary school to drop Wendy off. I spot Kyle on the playground, monitoring the children, but he doesn't spot us. He's in work mode. "Bye, Dad!" Wendy calls as she hops out of the car. "Bye, Bebe!"

"Bye!" me and Bebe call to her in unison as we watch her join the other children on the playground.

"People probably think we're a married couple," Bebe laughs.

I snicker at that. "Sometimes I think we may as well be." I let out a sigh as we leave the parking lot. "I worry about her. All the damn time."

"That's understandable," Bebe says with a laugh. "She's your little girl… but I wouldn't worry too much. You're raising her the right way."

"Am I?" I wonder.

She nods. "You're raising her to be her own person. Her mama would've been so damn proud."

7.

After work, Bebe is helping Wendy with her homework. "Better go get ready, Mister Man," Bebe says to me. "Only one hour until your big date."

Wendy is oblivious to what Bebe is saying. She's wearing a look of concentrating as she stares down at her paper and practises drawing letters.

"Right," I say with a sigh. I set my bag down and turn into my room, picking something nice to wear.

Before I leave, I make sure I'm ready – in body and mind – for where the night might lead. Sex with Kyle. Of course, he picks me up. At exactly 6PM, he calls me and tells me he's here. I bid Bebe and Wendy a goodbye and exit my apartment, taking my time. When I reach the lobby, I begin to get nervous. What am I doing? Do I really want this? I don't know. Really, I don't. Nonetheless, I can't cancel now. So, I force myself to calm down as I exit the glass doors. Kyle is parked out front and when I get into the passenger seat, he smiles and greets me with a simple, "Hey."

"Hey," I return. Fleetwood Mac is playing on the radio and Kyle hums along with Stevie Nicks as she sings about the Seven Wonders of the World. Neither of us say a word to one another. The drive is short, fortunately. He made reservations at a pretty spiffy restaurant.

"Wow, classy place," I comment as we walk inside. It's a good thing I dressed up. A waiter leads us to a table in a far corner of the room. I sit down and Kyle sits across from me.

"You okay?" he asks, staring at me.

I nod. "I'm completely fine," I say, though I'm still not sure how I feel.

"You seem tense," he notices.

"I'm trying not to be," I admit.

He smiles slightly. "It's fine. Just try to relax. It's just me here."

He's right… It's just Kyle – my old best friend. Kyle, who I used to have sleepovers with. Kyle, who has seen the best and worst of me.

We order and the rest of the dinner goes by smoothly. Kyle talks a lot about university and he fills me in on what Kenny and Cartman have been up to as well. He talks about his work. He even talks about the fucking weather at one point, while I'm just sitting here nodding my head. I don't have any stories to tell him about exciting things that happened in university because I never went. I've been here the entire time, raising a baby. I guess I've had my own share of excitement because of it, but it's not the kind of thing I can put into words. Being a parent is like that. I can't really explain it.

Parts of it still hurt to think about. The bad things are still burned in my mind and, though I wish it wasn't so, it's hard to erase such vivid memories. While Kyle talks, I can feel my gut twist around. I'm spacing out, but I'm trying to stay engaged. My mind is wandering again. Always wandering.

After dinner, Kyle pays and we exit through the fancy, glass doors. I walk ahead and when we near his car, Kyle lets out an audible sigh, placing a hand on my shoulder and forcing me to turn around to look at him. "Stan… you've been rigid all damn night," he mentions. "Are you still pissed off at me?"

"I can't help it," I murmur. "I know you might find it annoying… but I loved her. I fucking loved her. She was my wife and she died and none of you stayed. I mean, I get it. You hate surrounding yourself with negativity. You've told me it time and time again. This isn't the first time you've fucked off because I felt too sad to function."

He looks guilty. "I know," he says quietly, "and I'm sorry. I'm trying to be better. I'm trying to be patient and understanding."

I nod lifelessly, but I don't feel the need to cry. I guess one emotional breakdown in front of Kyle was enough.

"Do you still love her?" he asks.

"I always will," I admit, "but she's gone. It's time to move on. I'm trying."

"Okay," Kyle says gently, giving my shoulder a squeeze before finally letting his hand fall. "You should come over. I'll show you my place and then we can talk more if you want."

"All right," I accept.

We get into his car and on the ride to Kyle's house, he's once again humming along to the radio. Soon, we pull into an apartment parking lot. It's a set of new buildings that weren't around when we were kids.

Silently, he parks and we enter the building, climbing up to the second floor. His apartment is nice, in a minimalist kind of way. There isn't much to it and it's pretty simple. "I'll give you the grand tour," he says as he shows me around. There is a kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom and the rest is open space. There's a sofa in the center of the room with a glass coffee table and a television built into the book shelves. Ah, the books… Kyle has many of them. I would expect nothing less. From what I see, there's fiction and nonfiction, novels and textbooks. He's always been a reader.

"Lots of books," I note and he chuckles.

"Want a glass of wine or something?" he offers.

"Sure," I say before taking a seat on the sofa. I'm worried I'll make a mess of something. It's all so neat and tidy. At my apartment, nothing has its place and everything is childproofed.

Kyle walks into the kitchen and calls, "Red or white wine?"

"White," I call back and he reappears with two glasses, handing me one.

"Thanks," I accept, taking a sip.

He sits down next to me and asks, "So, what else is happening in the life of Stanley Marsh?"

"Not much," I admit. "It's a bit of a cycle now, but I've gotten used to it and to be honest, it's comforting. I'm not a fan of surprises. They can be unpleasant."

"Yeah," he softly agrees and it's quiet. "So, uh..."

"It's okay, Kyle," I tell him. "We don't always have to talk. Don't you remember when we were young? We would go hours, side by side, not saying a word. We didn't need to always be talking. We were kind of connected. I knew what you were feeling and you knew what I was feeling. Maybe that went away. It's been a long time, but maybe we can get back to that point eventually."

"Yeah," he says again. "I'd really fuckin' like that."

I smile slightly. "Me, too." I set my the nearly-empty wine glass down and stare at him for a moment before leaning forward. "I'm going to try something, okay?"

"Okay," he says.

I press my lips to his – it's brief and quick, but I wanted to try it. I wanted to see what it would be like to kiss Kyle. "You have soft lips," I tell him.

He smiles at that and we both lean forward again. This time, the kiss is different. "Hey…" he murmurs once we part. "Do you wanna…?" he trails off, nodding towards his bedroom door.

Suddenly, my throat feel dry and I feel warm. Rather than speaking, I simply nod. He holds out his hand, offering it to me and once I accept it, he leads me into his room. As we step inside, he flicks the lights on. I don't tell him to turn them back off, since I don't want to sound shy and childish. Part of me is nervous, but I'm not sure why, but I just remind myself that this is Kyle. Kyle, who likes me and wants me. I guess this means I like and want him, too.

Gently, he pushes me onto his mattress, hovering over me and leaning forward. "It's okay, right?" he asks, murmuring the words into my mouth.

"Of course," I say quietly and he touches his lips to mine. I run my hand up his back beneath his shirt and when we break apart I take it off. I stare at his abdomen, touching the skin stretched over his muscles. "I don't usually do this kind of thing," I admit, glancing up at him. Least of all with guys, but I won't mention that part. My track record with men is very limited.

"Fuck on the first date?" he asks, drawing back.

"Yeah," I say, sitting up. To be frank, I've never done it before, but I won't mention that either. My sexual experiences are few and far between these days. In all honesty, I've only ever slept with Wendy. So, this is new in more ways than one.

"Does that make me special, then?" he asks lightly.

"Sure," I say with a laugh. I raise my arms as he tugs off my t-shirt and I reach for his belt.

Once we're both bare, he bends down again and our bodies are pressed together – skin on skin – as he kisses me again. He's warm. All over. I guess I understand now what Bebe was saying – Kyle really does know how to make someone feel special.

Once we part, I can tell it's time for the pièce de résistance.

He reaches over me and towards his nightstand, taking a condom and rolling it on with ease. I stare at the parts of him I never imagined I'd get to see or want to see, but here I am wanting more. I grab my knees and pull my legs to my chest, feeling shy about baring this much of my physical being. Next, he grabs a bottle of something and pours a generous amount on my ass. I feel myself clench at the sensation.

"Go slow," I request softly.

He smiles gently and nods. He's careful. My breath comes in shallow and I can't help but curl my toes. "Feels good…" I say quietly and run my hands up and down his abdomen. He's panting and his eyebrows are drawn together. With one hand, he grabs the headboard, steadying himself as he moves rhythmically. With the other, he touches me.

"Kyle…" I murmur.

"Stan…"

"Kyle…" I repeat breathlessly, arching my back. It feels strange being so exposed, but it's okay because it's Kyle.

It's Kyle.

It's Kyle, it's Kyle, it's Kyle.

8.

In the morning, we wake up wrapped together, our tired limbs tangled. We're lying on his mattress wrapped in a duvet. He's got an arm over my chest, pinning me in place. For a while, I don't move. I just lie here and think about what happened last night. I think about that and I think about how it might affect me from here on. Now that Kyle has had me, will he want me again? Or is this it? Either way, I guess it was fun… but I would like to see him again. I think I realized that when he was inside of me. I do want him. What a revelation.

I don't know how long I'm thinking about these things, but Kyle soon shifts against me and when I turn my head, he's staring at me. "Good morning," I say.

"G'morning," he murmurs in a voice laced in fatigue. He removes his arm and rolls onto his back, closing his eyes again.

"Not a morning person, huh?" I ask.

He smiles slightly, but doesn't answer. I sit up and glance at the digital clock on his nightstand. It's only 7AM. It's still pretty early, no wonder he's groggy. I guess I'm so used to waking up early. It's that internal clock. Oh, well. Maybe it'll be nice to sleep in. That's what weekends are for. Bebe is with Wendy, so I can relax for a little while longer. I get comfortable again and close my eyes.

The next time I open them, I'm alone in Kyle's bed. I sit up and scan the room, looking for a sign of life. "Hm…" I murmur to myself, getting up and leaving the room. "Kyle…?"

He pops out of the kitchen a moment later. "Ah, you're awake," he smiles. He's already dressed in a pair of khakis and an argyle sweater. Apart from the glasses, he looks very much himself. I still can't get used to seeing him wear them.

"Yeah," I say, still stark nude. "Could I use your shower?"

"Yeah, go ahead," he nods. "Towels are in the cupboard. I'm making food, so when you're done come into the kitchen and have a bite to eat, okay?"

"Okay." I leave the room and stroll into the bathroom, turning the taps on. As I wait for the water to get hot, I stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. I haven't really looked at myself in a long time. I look tired. Hell, I guess I feel it, too. I think I've forgotten about it, though. It's almost become a part of my personality. Stan Marsh, always tired.

I turn away from myself, getting in the shower a moment later. I wash myself and use Kyle's shampoo. It smells like mint.

When I'm finished, I take a towel from the cupboard and dry off before wrapping it around my waste and returning to Kyle's room to get redressed. After that, I meet him back in the kitchen, where we eat and talk about morning things – the weather, work, the local news. Around eleven, I tell him I ought to go home and relieve Bebe from her post as babysitter. Kyle drives me home. We kiss in the car and then we part ways.

When I arrive to my apartment I swing open the door and Bebe is full of questions. Naturally. "So," she smirks, "how was it?"

"He, um," I pause, searching for a word that's vague enough. "He was a gentleman."

"Oh, I'm sure," she says, a perverted gleam in her eyes.

"How was what?" Wendy asks from her seat on the sofa. Her eyes are glued to the television screen, but clearly it doesn't have her complete attention.

"I went out with Kyle last night," I tell her.

"Mr. Broflovski? My teacher?" she wonders.

"Yeah," I say. I sit down next to her and she looks up at me with a curious expression.

"What did you do together?"

"We had dinner," I say. "Then we had a sleepover."

"Oh," she smiles before turning her gaze back towards the TV screen. "Do you like him again?"

"Yeah, I do," I tell her, not quite sure if she understands how much.

9.

Kyle has become something constant in my life for the first time since we were teenagers. It feels pretty good. Right now, we're squeezed together on the recliner in my living room. The television is on, but we're not paying attention. I've got my legs draped over his knees and we're quietly talking – not really about anything particularly important, but that's okay.

Bebe is coming over with Kenny and Cartman tonight. Me and Kyle are cooking dinner. It should be interesting, to say the least, but I think I'm looking forward to getting to know my old friends again.

Wendy is on the sofa, flicking through channels and trying to find something to watch. I haven't yet told her what Kyle is to me, but I think she understands nonetheless. According to her, Kyle is my "prince". I thought that was cute.

"Are your eyes bad?" I wonder, reaching forward and removing Kyle's glasses. I hold them in front of me and stare into the lenses. "Eesh…"

Kyle chuckles. "Yeah, I know." He's squinting, so I give them back and smile sheepishly.

From her seat on the sofa, Wendy turns and stares at us critically. "Do you kiss like in fairy tales?" she asks.

"Yeah," Kyle tells her with a little chuckle. "Just like in fairy tales."

She giggles at that.

10.

This is it. Things change. People change. People come. People go. We move forward. We're always moving forward. Kyle knows this, Bebe knows this and I know it, too. It's a lesson we've all learned in similar and different ways. It's a lesson we'll keep learning. It's a lesson that Wendy will learn someday, too. When that day comes, I want to be there to tell her it will be okay, even if she doubts it. Because, though people come and go, time heals. Sometimes it takes a little while; sometimes it takes a long time. Nonetheless, it's true. Time does heal you. I'm not saying I'm okay. I'm not saying I'm fine, but I am saying that I will be. I can already feel it happening. Each new morning, I wake up feeling a little lighter. I welcome it. I welcome it with Wendy, with Bebe and with Kyle, too.

I can breathe easier now.

I can breathe.