A/N: A day late, because I was having too much fun on Halloween to finish it - I skipped work, and if I had gone in I would have certainly finished on time, but it always feels so wrong to work on Halloween, it should really be a national holiday. I hope you guys have enjoyed this story and that this final chapter will be satisfying - let me know what you think!
After the brandy and pumpkin pancakes have left his stomach, Stan experiences a fleeting sense of relief that is immediately followed by horror and embarrassment. The first absurd thought that surfaces is that he just threw up in front of Kenny. Cartman is screaming about the barf on his shoes as if their dead friend isn't standing in the corner looking nervous.
"Okay," Craig says. "What the fuck."
"Goddammit, it's all over me!" Cartman says. "Sick!"
"Eric!" Wendy says. "Jesus Christ, let it go for five seconds! Bebe, what in the hell is going on?"
"It's - it's kind of a long story," Bebe says. She lowers her arms and turns to Kenny. "Or maybe it's really not. Are you okay?" she asks, muttering this. He nods unconvincingly.
"You're alive?" Kyle says, still hanging back from the rest of the group. Stan wipes vomit from his chin and tries to meet Kenny's eyes, but Kenny is looking down at Bebe's shoulder.
"Obviously he's alive," Bebe says. "And he's just - this is too much, there are too many of you in here. Everybody, just. Go out to the living room. My parents are in Denver at some costume party thing."
"Your parents know he's here?" Stan says.
"No, no." Bebe glances around at each of them, looking queasy. "He kind of lives in my closet."
"What!" Wendy shouts. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because - look, like I said, I'll explain, but you guys need to give him some space. This is too much for him, all at once."
Stan scoffs and waits for Kenny to tell Bebe that she's being ridiculous, but he just goes on staring at her shoulder. His hands are on her waist, and he looks like he's holding on pretty tight, still breathing hard from the chase.
"Fine," Craig says. "But I'm raiding the liquor cabinet. This is too fucked up to do sober."
"My parents don't have a liquor cabinet," Bebe says. "And nobody's raiding shit - you guys just barged into my house, okay? It's kind of not cool."
"Oh, sorry for ignoring etiquette," Cartman says. "It's not like a fucking ghost just crawled into your bedroom window or anything."
"He's not a ghost!" Bebe points to her bedroom door. "Now march, everyone."
Stan walks out last, not wanting to let Kenny out of his sight. Bebe has turned to whisper to him as the others walk out, and Kenny is nodding glumly, his face hovering over hers. She gives him a soft kiss on the lips and Stan turns for the door, feeling like he might be sick again. He can't even begin to formulate a theory about how any of this is happening.
Out in the living room, Cartman is cleaning the puke off his shoes with some paper towels while Wendy paces tensely. Craig and Token have dropped onto the couch and are muttering together like conspiracy theorists, and Butters is fooling with the video camera. Stan goes to stand beside Kyle, who is near the front window, watching the street as if awaiting trick-or-treaters.
"Alright," Bebe says as she walks in. "First of all, you guys can't tell anyone about this."
"Like hell we can't," Cartman says. "This is major news."
"I'm composing a Tweet as we speak," Craig says, bent over his phone.
"No!" Bebe runs over and snatches the phone out of Craig's hand. "You can't!"
"Why not?" Wendy asks. "Why is this a secret? How the hell did he survive?"
"We were told he died," Stan says, suddenly feeling uncertain about this. He's dizzy, too, and has to brace himself on Kyle's shoulder for a moment. "Weren't - we?"
"Well, they never found the body," Bebe says. "They concluded he'd been killed because of the amount of blood. His memories of that night are very hazy, okay - he's traumatized, obviously. He remembers hiding Karen, and then nothing else until I found him living near the dumpster behind the mall."
"Hmm, sounds like bullshit to me," Cartman says. "Maybe he killed his loser parents himself!"
"Shut up!" Bebe says, and she looks truly dangerous for a moment, as if she might cross the room and rip Cartman's tongue out. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Why hasn't he told anyone he's alive?" Wendy asks, and she scoffs. "I mean - Bebe, this is so weird."
"I know," she says, and for a moment she looks like she'll cry. "I just - when I found him last year-"
"Last year?" Token says. "He's been living in your closet for a year?"
"Only when he needs to hide from my parents! Otherwise, you know. I mean, it's not like I make him sleep in there."
"Are you guys fucking?" Craig asks.
"Craig, Jesus!" Wendy says. "That's your first question, really?"
"I think it was like, my third, actually."
"Everybody shut up!" Kyle says. "Bebe, you were saying?"
"It was just so overwhelming." Bebe sits down on the couch, looking exhausted. "I was so - so glad he was alive, and I wanted to take care of him, and he begged me not to tell anyone. He cried and just - begged. He just can't deal with, um, reality, after what happened. Sometimes it is like he's a ghost, at least where other people are concerned. Me and him - he's good, with me. He trusts me."
"They're fucking," Craig concludes. "Can I have my phone back?"
"You're not Tweeting about this!" Bebe says, and that's when Stan can't take it anymore. His stomach has that suddenly-kicked feeling, and he races for the bathroom, unwilling to listen to any more of this complete fucking insanity. He thinks of Kenny sitting in Bebe's room, right across the hall, and drops down to his knees in front of the toilet.
He opens the lid and retches a few times, but nothing comes up. He wants to throw up again, for even the most fleeting moment of relief. There's something unbearable and poisonous in him that needs to come out, and when he can't puke it up he starts sobbing in heavy jerks that make his stomachache worse. He's not even sure why he's crying. He should be glad that Kenny is alive, but he feels as if something else is being ripped away from him at the same time, something important and real that he needs. He hears the door open and pushes himself to his feet when Kyle walks in.
"Oh - Stan!" Kyle shuts the door behind him and hurries to Stan, who falls gladly into Kyle's arms, squeezing him hard around his middle. He can't stop crying, though now he wants to, because it's okay: Kyle is here. Somehow, for a moment there, it had felt as if the thing he was going to lose in exchange for Kenny was Kyle. "It's okay," Kyle says, and he holds Stan more tightly, crushing their bodies together.
"It's not okay," Stan says. They've done this before - cried together and held each other in a bruising hug, as if flood waters were rushing around them, threatening to separate them, but something about the memory has gotten fuzzy where it should be vivid. "Everything's so messed up," Stan says, and suddenly he's crying about all of it - Kenny, Cartman, Kyle, and all the wrong combinations thereof.
"No, shh." Kyle strokes the back of his neck and rocks him a little, and it feels so stupidly good that Stan cries harder. "Stan, oh. I know, it's crazy, but it's okay. It's going to be okay."
"It won't," Stan says, because whatever explanation they get from Bebe and Kenny, when they leave this bathroom things will be back to the way they were: Kenny existing in some other dimension, cut out of their lives and ruined by tragedy, and Kyle demeaning himself with Cartman, gritting his teeth and telling Stan to grow up, to get over it. "Oh, god," Stan says, feeling like he'll break into pieces as soon as Kyle lets go of him. "I just can't take it anymore, dude, I can't."
"Shh, no." Kyle sounds like he might cry, too, and Stan feels guilty, because the only time Kyle loses it is when Stan can't hold his own tears in. "Here, shhh, c'mere." Kyle backs Stan up against the bathroom wall and presses him there, and Stan can feel Kyle's breath on his face, warm and laced with brandy. "It's okay," Kyle whispers, and then he's kissing Stan's wet cheeks in soft little pecks, his breath fluttering out unevenly. "Stan, it's okay, really, I promise."
"You promise?" Stan scoffs incredulously and wrenches his eyes open. Kyle is so close, his belly pressed to Stan's. He keeps kissing Stan's face in an infuriatingly nonsexual way, his hands cupped around Stan's jaw. Stan remembers something, vaguely - that it will feel good to rub his face against Kyle's, so he does, smearing his tears onto Kyle's skin and trying to breathe normally.
"See, here," Kyle says softly, taking Stan's hand. He pushes it up under his black sweater, guiding Stan's palm toward his heartbeat. "See?" Kyle says when Stan leaves his hand there, stunned. He remembers now: he touched Kyle's chest when they thought Kenny was dead, and doing so made everything better. "There," Kyle says, smiling when he can see Stan remembers, his fingers moving shyly over Kyle's chest the way they had that night. "There, see? There you go."
Stan closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Kyle's, beginning to get hard from the feeling of the soft, warm skin under Kyle's sweater. He brushes his thumb over a stiff nipple and does it again when Kyle gasps.
"Good, yeah," Kyle says, nodding. "See, it's okay." He finds Stan's other hand and pushes it up under his sweater, too. "It's okay, Stan, really."
For a second Stan thinks they're going to kiss, but they just nuzzle each other's faces and breathe hard, Stan pressing his thumbs into both of Kyle's nipples now, rubbing in tight circles. Kyle makes a frustrated huffing sound and reaches down between their bodies, his knuckles brushing Stan's erection as he opens his own jeans.
"Here," Kyle whispers, and he takes Stan's right hand, guiding it down to the waistband of his underwear, then inside, where everything is damp with heat and Stan's fingers curl easily around Kyle's cock. They both let out their breath, blinking heavily. Stan feels hypnotized, and so good. He rubs his thumb up and down the length of Kyle's cock, touching it the way he touched Kyle's chest, leeching comfort from the heat and weight in his palm.
"What the hell are we doing?" Stan asks, finally. Kyle looks confused for a moment, as if he's not sure, either.
"Making you feel better," Kyle says. His voice is small and kind of pinched, nervous.
"What? I don't want to use you." Even as he says so, Stan's fingers tighten around Kyle's dick, his other hand snug over Kyle's ribs, under his sweater.
"What do you want?" Kyle asks, and suddenly he's angry, eyes flashing. "Huh? What do you want from me, Stan? Just fucking tell me."
Stan tries to kiss him, but Kyle rears back, his eyes hard as he waits for an answer.
"To kiss you and fuck you and hold your hand," Stan says. "And everything else. And to say no one else gets to have you. Only me."
"Oh-" Kyle says, and he gives Stan a lunging kiss, exhaling into his mouth when their tongues slide together. Stan has never considered himself a good kisser, but now he's too blown apart and overstimulated to worry about technique. He just wants to feel Kyle's tongue, like this, over and over, that soft, wet heat and Kyle's choppy breath.
"What about Cartman?" Stan asks, somewhat bitterly, when Kyle pulls back. Kyle frowns like he doesn't understand the question.
"That's - we can talk about that after," Kyle says.
"After what?"
"Um. After I come, because. I'm gonna come, in your hand, if you keep doing that."
Stan didn't even realize he'd been pumping Kyle's dick, stroking him off to the rhythm of their kissing. They both look down, and Stan moans at the sight of Kyle's fat cock head protruding from the ring of his fingers, wet at the tip. He runs his thumb through the slickness and Kyle hisses.
"Yeah," he whispers. His face is all red, and he's so hot under his sweater, burning up in Stan's hands. "Please-"
"Fuck, I'm so hard right now," Stan says, realizing this as a near-painful throb of arousal makes his knees momentarily buckle. Kyle groans and comes, falling against Stan's chest and humping his hand in adorably desperate little twitches of his hips. Stan takes his hand from Kyle's dick, wipes it thoughtlessly on a nearby bath towel and wraps both arms around Kyle's back, holding him while he pants against Stan's shoulder. "How does Kenny bathe?" Stan asks, feeling calm now, though still very hard inside his jeans. "Does she bring a little plastic tub in there and sponge bathe him?"
"I don't know what the fuck is going on, honestly," Kyle says. He lifts his face to Stan's and smiles when Stan leans in to kiss him. Kyle's mouth is wetter now, and maybe warmer, and he tastes so good, new but strangely familiar.
"So, listen," Stan says. "You have to tell Cartman - you can't do that anymore. You're breaking my heart, dude."
"Oh - Stan." Kyle moans and kisses his cheeks in a series of frantic little pecks. "Um." He pulls back and gives Stan a sheepish look. "I have to tell you something, but I want to suck your dick first. Or maybe during."
"During?"
"Here, just-"
Kyle drops down to his knees, and it occurs to Stan that he wasn't just saying he was going to suck Stan's dick, he's actually going to do it. He peeks up at Stan as if to ask permission, then pulls down Stan's zipper like he's gotten it. Stan undoes the button on his jeans, wanting to communicate his enthusiasm for this turn of events. It's pretty bonkers that Kenny is somewhere in this house, living a quiet life as some kind of pet zombie that Bebe has decided she can have, but he'll deal with that momentarily. He's pretty sure Kenny would egg him on in this activity, despite the odd timing. Kenny once said that he assumed Stan and Kyle sixty-nine'd almost daily, then looked kind of sad and disappointed when Stan said of course they didn't.
"Why not?" Kenny had asked.
Now, with Kyle sucking gently at his cock head, Stan can't think of any reasons why not. He's envisioned this so many times: Kyle looking up at him, lapping at his dick some, then looking up again. Stan knew that would be the case, that Kyle would keep checking Stan's face to make sure he was doing a good job.
"I'm kind of new at this," Kyle says.
"Yeah?" Stan says, trying not to think about whatever he's done with Cartman.
"I mean, entirely new," Kyle says. He licks a fat stripe up the underside of Stan's cock, sliding his hand under Stan's balls.
"Mhm, well." Stan wants to say that's hard to believe, considering who Kyle's been having hate sex with, but Kyle has always been weird about oral hygiene, so maybe he refused to get his mouth involved at all. "That's okay," Stan says. "I mean. I'm about to come just from, from what you're doing, so-"
"Good, then now's the time to tell you," Kyle says, his face getting very red, "And please don't be mad, but, um. I wasn't actually, like. Doing things, with Cartman. He made that up to make Wendy jealous."
"What?" Stan can't take many more surprises, but actually this feels like something he should have guessed. "Wendy - what? Why would you let him do that? Drag your name through the, uh? Mud, like that?"
"Well, because I thought maybe - you would look at me different, or, I don't know! I hoped you'd get really pissed off about it and try to fight him or something. That you'd be jealous, and you were. But it wasn't real - we're mutually repulsed by each other, we never did anything. And it kinda hurt my feelings that you believed the lie, but I forgive you."
"What-"
"Shh, just concentrate on this for a second."
By 'this' he must mean the sensation of having Kyle's whole mouth slide down over his cock, at last. Stan's knees are shaking, and he's clenching his ass, trying not to let his hips move. Kyle looks strangely dainty with his hand wrapped around the base of Stan's cock, head bobbing. It's something about the way his eyelashes flutter while he works.
"Kyle!" Stan cries, in warning, but it's too late. He's coming, in Kyle's mouth, and Kyle, it seems, is swallowing it.
"Gah," Kyle says when he pulls off. "It doesn't taste the way I thought it would." He stands and helps Stan remain upright, pressing him against the wall. "Not that I haven't tasted mine, but. It's different, on the back of your throat, as opposed to the tip of your tongue, I guess."
"What are you talking about?" Stan asks, afraid he'll start crying again. "What's even going on? I feel like this is a fucking dream."
"Shh," Kyle says, and he kisses Stan. His tongue is sour and salty. Stan has actually never tasted his own come, and now he's left wondering if that's something normal guys do.
Someone knocks on the door, and Kyle sighs into Stan's mouth, disconnecting slowly.
"Are you guys fucking in there?" Craig asks.
"Yes," Stan says, and Kyle snorts.
"Cool. Look, me and Token are leaving. The girls are down there crying, Kenny won't come out of Bebe's room, Cartman is the worst and I'm bored. Do you guys need a ride?"
Stan boggles at Kyle, who looks equally surprised that Craig would offer them a ride anywhere, ever.
"This is some kind of bizarro world," Kyle mutters.
"No, thanks," Stan says.
"Whatever," Craig says. "Enjoy each other's semen. Tell Kenny we said welcome back to life if he comes out of his hidey hole at any point."
Stan listens to Craig and Token walking away, still trying to get his bearings. He closes his eyes rests his face against Kyle's, his spent dick tiredly registering the weight of Kyle's body as they lean together.
"You lied to me," Stan says.
"Well, yes. I just. I couldn't take it anymore, how you were always looking at me like you were drowning and I wasn't saving you, like I had to take the plunge and be the one who risked everything, and then Cartman had this dumb idea, because Wendy was always jealous of me and so forth, and I thought, what the hell. What do I have to lose?"
"You were toying with us," Stan says, increasingly angry as the haze of his orgasm dissipates. "Me and Wendy - you guys had this plan, this gross plan, and you went along with a Cartman plan, Kyle. Why do you always do that?"
"Always do what?"
"Fall in with him when you think you'll get something out of it."
"I don't! Fuck you!"
"Fuck me? You just sucked my dick so that I wouldn't get mad at you for lying to me for months - about something that really fucking upset me, Kyle! What the hell is that? Who does that?"
Kyle slams out of the bathroom, red-faced again and still doing up his pants. He stops in the doorway with his hand on his fly. Stan tucks his cock in and fastens his pants, feeling like he's been lashed by competing storms. This is not at all how it goes in his head when he allows himself to imagine Kyle confessing his love. Which he hasn't done, actually, unless dick sucking is tantamount to that. At the moment Stan feels like it probably isn't.
He comes to the doorway and sees why Kyle has stopped. Across the hall, half-hidden behind the door to Bebe's bedroom, Kenny is peeking out at them. Stan can hear Bebe and Wendy arguing out in the living room, Cartman occasionally chiming in. Kenny glances from Kyle to Stan and back to Kyle again.
"You guys were fighting," Kenny says. Kyle snorts.
"Yeah," he says. "And you were dead."
"Hey," Stan says. He pushes around Kyle and walks toward the bedroom door, slowly, as if Kenny is an animal who might be spooked. "Why did you run from me?" Stan asks. "When I saw you at the mall? Why'd you run from me and not Bebe?"
"I ran from her," Kenny says. He's got a throaty rumble to his voice now, as if he's taken up smoking. It makes him sound older than seventeen. "I guess she's just faster than you. She caught me."
"And where the hell were you before she found you?" Kyle asks. "The last time we saw you was when we were - thirteen, Jesus Christ!"
"My memory's a little rusty," Kenny says, and there's something dark in his voice that makes Stan nervous. "I wanted to see you guys, just. It was weird, like. I thought you'd be mad at me."
"We kind of are," Kyle says.
"No, we're not," Stan says, and Kyle gives him a look of outrage. "Kenny, just. We're really glad you're okay."
"I'm not exactly okay," Kenny says, still halfway behind the door, as if he might need to use it as a shield when Stan and Kyle come at him with weapons.
"You have to tell people you're alive," Kyle says. "You can't just live in Bebe's closet. I mean, what the fuck?"
"I know," Kenny says. "But I'm not ready to come back to life yet. It's not fair that I don't get to decide when to come back."
Stan glances at Kyle, who seems to share his alarm. It's not exactly surprising that Kenny would be sort of nuts after what he went through, but it's still upsetting.
"What were you doing in that house?" Stan asks. "Staring at us like that? You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry. I go back there sometimes, um. I have a stash there, my parents' drug money is still hidden in the wall. Don't tell Cartman."
"What do you need money for?" Kyle asks. "Doesn't Bebe feed you table scraps?"
"I use it to help my sister. Her foster family doesn't buy her everything she needs, so. I do."
"She knows you're alive?" Stan says, trying to picture little Karen McCormick, who he never took much notice of before the tragedy.
"Sort of," Kenny says. "She thinks I'm her guardian angel. Stop looking at me like that - see, you guys don't understand. That's why I stayed hidden. I didn't want to fucking explain. I knew you'd look at me like this."
"Didn't you think we missed you?" Stan asks. "Didn't you get that when I was running after you, calling your name? You think I just wanted you to explain? I don't care what the explanation is. Nothing makes sense anymore anyway. Just - c'mere."
Stan fears he's probably being insensitive of Kenny's reclusive shyness, but he can't wait any longer to feel if he's solid or not. He pushes the door open and Kenny moves back a little, but stands in place when Stan wraps him into a hug. Kenny is taller than him now, and still bony, with wide shoulders. He hugs Stan back tentatively at first, then more tightly.
"I missed you guys, too," Kenny says. Kyle makes a pinched, wounded noise and falls onto Stan's back, hugging both of them.
"I'm so sorry," Stan says, still holding onto Kenny, glad for the warm pressure of Kyle against his back, Kyle's breath on his ear. "About your parents, and your brother. God - goddammit."
"Yeah," Kenny says, and he squirms free. "It's. I don't really talk about it."
"Understandable," Kyle says. He's lingering close to Stan, smelling like come. For a while they all just stand there, exchanging awkward glances.
"We never should have gone to your house," Stan blurts. "It was disrespectful. Cartman - fucking Cartman. It was his stupid idea." Stan can feel Kyle go tense beside him, but he doesn't care. Stan will never follow Cartman down another rabbit hole again. If Kyle wants to continue to buy into Cartman's schemes, that's his problem.
"It's okay," Kenny says. "I know how he is."
"No, that's not an excuse," Stan says. "I take full responsibility for letting him drag me into it. It's just as much my fault as his."
"Oh, my god," Kyle mutters.
"What?" Stan says. "You disagree?"
"Stop trying to make this about me and my deception! Kenny is standing right here. We haven't seen him in years. Talk about disrespectful."
"Oh, yeah, and ignoring the whole situation in favor of sucking my dick was super respectful."
"What?" Kenny says, and he smiles, which makes him look younger, like his old self. Even as a kid he didn't smile that much, but when he did he did it was extra special, to Stan, knowing he'd said something that impressed Kenny. "Is that why you guys are like, coated in come stains?"
Stan and Kyle look down at themselves, and Kyle curses under his breath. There are a few stains on the hem of Kyle's sweater, and Stan's shirt and jeans are smeared with come. It's all Kyle's, and Stan feels oddly proud about this, and less angry at Kyle for a moment. It's sweet, somehow, that Kyle came this much and this sloppily, marking both of them, then swallowed all of Stan's down without spilling a drop.
"Hey, good," Kenny says. "Bebe told me that Kyle was with Cartman. I refused to believe it."
"Stan believed it easily enough," Kyle snaps, and Stan is back to being furious with him. Before he can respond, Bebe walks into the room.
"What the hell are you two doing?" she asks.
"It's okay," Kenny says. "I wanted to see them. Just not Craig and the others."
"Cartman and Wendy are still out there," Bebe says, frowning. "They're doing that thing where they move progressively closer to each other during a fight. Makes me afraid they're going to start fucking any second." She glances at Stan's shirt and jeans. "Huh," she says, giving him a judgmental look. "Was that there ten minutes ago?"
"What about Butters?" Stan asks, unwilling to answer that.
"He left with Craig and Token." Bebe turns to Kenny and touches his arm. "I made them promise not to tell anyone about you, but I don't trust Craig."
Kenny shrugs. "I can't keep doing this anyway," he says. "Kyle's right."
"But-" Bebe grabs for Kenny's arm again, more forcefully this time. "Where will you stay?"
"He can stay with us," Stan volunteers, pretty sure that his parents won't like the idea. "Shelly's old room is empty."
"I'll figure it out," Kenny says, and he kisses Bebe's cheek. She peers up at him, worried and worshipful, and Stan wonders what it's like: having a secret boy in her bed, someone who belongs only to her. He's jealous, wishing he could hide Kyle in his bedroom for a year or so, away from all corrupting forces. Stan would keep him warm and safe and hidden, would bring him food. Carrots, sometimes.
"I've got to go," Stan says, still freaked out by standing in the same room with Kenny. "Let me know, uh. If you need a place to crash."
"We'll see," Kenny says, and Stan's chest tightens. Maybe Kenny will leave town. Maybe this is the last time they'll see each other, and in the future it will only feel like a fever dream. He looks at Kyle, who is clearly still fuming.
"We should ask Wendy if she wants us to walk her home," Stan says.
"Whatever," Kyle says. He looks at Bebe, then Kenny. "You two make a beautiful couple," he says.
"Uh," Bebe says. "Thanks."
Kyle leaves the room. Stan looks at Kenny, who widens his eyes in an old familiar way that makes Stan sad for all the years together they've missed. Kenny always had the best expressions in reaction to Kyle's weirdness.
"I mean it about staying with me," Stan says, his voice wavering a little.
"I know you do," Kenny says. "I'll see you around."
Stan can't help imagining that Kenny means Stan might see him in alley by the mall again, and that he might take off running if Stan tries to come near him.
Out in the living room, Cartman and Wendy's argument has dulled to a murmur, and they're standing close enough that Stan feels as if he's intruding on something. Kyle doesn't seem to care, stomping over to break up the scene.
"The jig is up," Kyle says. "Stan knows about our plan."
"Whatever are you talking about, Kyle?" Cartman asks, his eyes hardening. "I'm sure I don't know."
"Give it up, Cartman. I told Stan everything, and Wendy deserves the truth, too."
"God, what now?" Wendy says, looking from Kyle to Cartman. "Eric? What's he talking about?"
"There was never any hate sex," Stan says. "Cartman made it all up. They conspired to make you jealous."
"Lies!" Cartman says, and for a moment Stan thinks the two of them might come to physical blows over this. Though Cartman is considerably larger, Stan suddenly likes the idea of fighting him. "Kyle, what is this witchery? You're pretending to be a virgin so that Stan will fuck you bare back?"
"I am a virgin!" Kyle says, and he goes very red in a way that convinces Stan this is true. "Cartman, you complete ass - just tell her the truth, that you want to get back with her and you're sorry about putting your dick on her face that time!"
"You told Kyle about that?" Wendy says, rounding on Cartman.
"Buh - no, what?" Cartman looks genuinely afraid that Wendy will hit him. Stan has no doubt that she could still kick his ass. "Wendy, I. I'm going through a hard time right now, okay? Kenny is alive and stuff."
"Eric, you selfish piece of shit! As soon as I give you an inch I wake up with a dick on my cheek."
"I'm leaving," Stan says, unable to stomach this any longer.
"Wait!" Cartman says. "What did you assholes do with my equipment? Where's my light and my mike?"
"We left them at the McCormick house, in the backyard," Kyle says. "I'll get them in the morning."
"No - what? Like hell, Kyle! You think we're the only one who had the idea to lurk around there on Halloween night? Jesus, someone might have stolen that shit already! That's expensive equipment, you butt pirates! Go get it now, or I'm suing you for three thousand dollars!"
"Fine!" Kyle says, and he follows Stan out the front door.
It's gotten cold outside, and Bebe's neighborhood has gone quiet, most of the jack-o-lanterns blown out, no kids traversing the streets. Stan walks toward the woods that they cut through on their wild Kenny chase. Kyle keeps close and says nothing.
"I'm not going to get Cartman's shit," Stan says. "He can go fuck himself with his three thousand dollar lawsuit."
"It's fine," Kyle says, mumbling. "I'll get it."
"What - what? You're going back there alone?"
"It will take five seconds! And what is there to be afraid of? We just hugged the ghost."
Stan huffs angrily. Kyle knows that Stan won't let him go there alone, so now he'll be stuck fetching Cartman's crap, returning to the scene of the crime.
"I guess you hate me now," Kyle says, his voice shaking. "That's cool. Okay."
"I don't hate you. Where's my jacket?"
"Oh - shit. Shit, I left it in Bebe's bathroom. Shit!"
"Calm down, it's okay." Stan bumps his shoulder against Kyle's. "We'll walk fast." He thinks of getting back to his house, changing out of their come-stained clothes and huddling under the blankets on his bed, holding on to each other to get warm. "I want to date you," Stan says, still angry but unwilling to be vague on this point. "I want it to be, like. A serious thing. Not just some weird sex in a bathroom."
"I want both," Kyle says, quietly. "I liked the weird bathroom sex."
Stan tries to fight off a smile and can't suppress it. His moods have been careening around crazily for days, but whatever he's feeling, he knows he wants to keep Kyle close, even if he simultaneously wants to berate him for telling such a vile lie. He reaches over and takes Kyle's hand as they walk into the woods.
"Since when are you gay?" Kyle asks.
"I don't know. You knew I liked it when you did stuff to my nipples that night."
"Yeah. But I thought maybe it was a desperate need for human contact of any kind. Why didn't you just kiss me?"
"I don't know! Kenny was dead. It didn't seem like the time."
"So it took Kenny coming back to life for you to decide it was the time?"
"Maybe. Kyle, I'm still pissed off."
"I know." Kyle squeezes Stan's hand and sighs. "It's kind of creepy back here."
Stan has to agree. He hardly noticed the woods as they ran through them before, but the density of the pines and the empty quiet all around is intimidating, as if they've trespassed into some menacing entity's territory. An owl hoots overhead, as if warning them to turn back. There's a peel of wild laughter from somewhere in the distance, though not distant enough to be outside of the woods.
"I bet the Goth kids are out here," Stan says when Kyle twitches nervously. "Doing fake Satanic rituals or whatever the hell."
"It's not midnight yet," Kyle says. "The dead are still roaming the earth."
"Ha. Don't joke about that."
"I still can't believe that was Kenny. Was it really him, Stan?"
"I think so. He smelled like Bebe, did you notice? Like, he must use all of her bath products."
"This is the second time we've discussed Kenny's bathing habits tonight."
Kyle stops walking when they hear the laughter again. It seems closer now, or maybe Stan is just imagining things. From someplace behind them, a twig snaps.
"Want to run?" Stan asks, and Kyle nods.
They go tearing through the woods, and Stan waits to have that feeling that he did before, a weird elation brought on by the run, but it doesn't happen. He feels an abrupt and powerful sense of dread, as if he and Kyle have doomed each other by announcing their intentions to be together. It's like the scene in a horror movie when the future victims are lulled into a false sense of security. He can't hear anyone chasing them, but he definitely feels as if they're running away from something bad.
"Stan?" Kyle says as they're nearing the edge of the woods. They've released each other's hands, for maximum running potential.
"Yeah?"
"I'm really sorry!" Kyle is shouting, which seems dangerous, as if he might give away their location.
"It's okay," Stan says.
"No, it's not! I took a sadistic pleasure in the idea that you were horrified by the thought of me with Cartman! I wanted you to be jealous!"
"Kyle-"
"I felt you had caused me pain and deserved to suffer! But I was wrong, okay, I'm really sorry-"
"Fine!" Stan stops running when they've cleared the woods and looks back, panting. There's nothing but shadows on the trail that leads into the woods.
"What are you doing?" Kyle asks, pulling on his shoulders. "Let's go get that stuff and go home."
"What do you mean I caused you pain?" Stan asks.
"Oh - well, because I loved you. That whole time."
"I know," Stan says, though he didn't know that. It just seems obvious now. "Me too."
He kisses Kyle's cheek, then his lips. It feels very weird to do so outside. They're both breathing hard from the run.
"I don't want to go back to that house," Stan says.
"I know. But I really don't want to deal with Cartman's wrath if that equipment gets taken. We'll just grab it and go."
Kenny's old house is just up ahead, across the street. As they walk toward it, Stan thinks about Kenny's life in that alleyway, then in Bebe's closet. It's the kind of impossible thing that he could only imagine Kenny doing: surviving in the shadows for years, drifting between life and death. If Stan had to listen to his family being murdered, he supposes he would want to retire from the land of the living, too.
"One thing doesn't make sense," Stan says. "Karen - why was she still hiding when the police came? And Kenny was gone? I can't see him leaving her there like that."
"Well, he did," Kyle says. "I mean, what's the alternative explanation? Bebe has been fucking a ghost for the past year? We just hugged a zombie?"
Goosebumps rise on the back of Stan's neck as they come to the front yard of the McCormick house. He feels as if something is very off, as if Kyle is right but he is, too. Something doesn't add up, and he can't shake the feeling that Kenny did die in this house, but that he's also still alive.
"The one night when the dead can walk among us," he says. "And that's when we found Kenny."
"You'd seen him before," Kyle says.
"Oh, yeah," Stan says, feeling stupid for being dramatic. "C'mon, let's get that stuff."
He walks ahead of Kyle and into the backyard, half expecting the light and mike to be gone already, taken by some other thrill seekers who arrived after they had. But the equipment is where they'd left it, near the back door that Cartman ripped open with the crowbar. Stan picks up the mike and peers into the dark house, surprised that any of them had the nerve to walk in there earlier. Now that it's later and quieter the energy of the place seems even more maliciously dangerous.
"I feel like we're being watched," Kyle says, and Stan peers into the dark house, both wanting to see something looking back and terrified by the idea that he might. There's a squeaking sound behind them, and they both whirl toward the swing set. One rusty swing is moving as if someone just leapt off of it. There's no wind, and the swing beside it remains motionless. A chill races up the back of Stan's neck and down along his arms, all the way to his fingertips. Kyle is breathing hard again. Stan feels as certain as he did when he ran into that alley after what he thought was a ghost: Kenny was here, just now. It's impossible but true, and when he looks at Kyle, he knows that he felt it, too.
"Let's go," Stan says. Kyle nods, so eager to leave that he almost forgets the light.
They're quiet for a while, walking quickly away from the house, toward the train tracks. Once they've crossed them, Kyle grabs for Stan's hand and holds it.
"I wanted to see the Kenny we lost," Stan says. "The thirteen-year-old one."
"I feel like he just saw us," Kyle says.
"But. That's not-"
"Maybe the spirit of what he lost is there, or something, I don't fucking know. God, let's go to my house. Ike went trick or treating. He'll have candy we can steal."
Nothing sounds better or more comforting than a night of eating candy on the couch with Kyle, watching scary movies and sharing a blanket. They can deal with reality, or what claims to be reality, tomorrow. Meanwhile, they've still got a few hours left to salvage a decent Halloween.
Ike is watching Pumpkinhead on the living room couch when they get there. He has hidden his Halloween candy, anticipating their attempted theft, but there is apple cake in the kitchen, and after eating two slices Stan remembers that he didn't have dinner and realizes how hungry he is, his stomach empty after his throw up incident. He raids Kyle's pantry, eating yogurt-covered pretzels, three pieces of fruit leather, and some leftover noodle pudding, despite Kyle's protests that it's too old and should be thrown out. It tastes fine to Stan after microwaving.
"What's that on your shirt?" Ike asks at one point, when Stan is overstuffed and beached on the couch, Kyle leaning subtly against his shoulder. "Jesus, is that jizz?"
"It's ectoplasm," Stan says, and Kyle starts laughing hard, giddy and nervous. Ike tells them they're disgusting and goes upstairs to enjoy his candy in the safety of his room. As soon as he's gone, Stan pulls Kyle closer, halfway into his lap.
"Is this real?" Kyle asks. Stan puts his hand over Kyle's heart. It's beating faster than he expected. "I feel like I'm going to turn into a pumpkin at midnight," Kyle says. "If you know what I mean."
"I love pumpkins," Stan says. "If you turn into one - I'll still eat you."
"Stan!" Kyle beams and then they're kissing in the sort of desperate, sloppy way that Stan always knew they would, if ever they kissed.
They go up to Kyle's bedroom shortly after midnight, and once they get there it's all still real: they dress down to their boxer shorts and gravitate together under the blankets, and Stan is pretty sure he's never felt so much warm skin pressed up against his own. The head to toe closeness of Kyle is as good as the kissing, and almost as good as Kyle's hand between his legs.
"Maybe Kenny came back to life because he sensed that we needed a push," Kyle says.
"Seems like the kind of thing he would do," Stan says, and he's joking, but as soon as he's said so he realizes it's true, somehow.
They bring each other to a slow building orgasm with hands only, kissing the whole time, until their lips are raw. Stan feels the way he used to when he binged on candy on Halloween night: sinfully sated, exhausted by good gluttony.
He dreams that he's on the swing set with Kenny, in daylight, back when they were kids. They're both laughing and kicking their legs, getting as high as they can. Kyle is standing in front of the swings, watching them and telling them to be careful. Stan can hear the steaks sizzling on the grill, and his mouth waters at the thought of dinner. He lets go with a whoop and lands right on top of Kyle, who thankfully isn't hurt or even annoyed by the impact. Kyle grins up at him, blushing, and Stan can hear Kenny laughing behind them, but it's a happy, nonjudgmental laugh that seems to prove what Stan is feeling: everything is right again, the way it should be.