Title: Places of the Heart

Fandom: South Park

Characters: Stan/Kyle

Prompt: .083. And

Word Count: 1,740

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Stan wants to be thought of as his own person. Kyle thinks its conflict of interest to help him.

Author's Notes: Just funny insecurities of teenagers.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.

After Stan's not unusual emotional break down; he did some internet research. He found that when a teenager wanted to find his own person and basically be different then his peers, but still remain somewhat cool, that they had to turn punk. Punk was different then Goths because punks had apathy while the Goths had empathy. The steps it took to become punk was nothing more then a change of clothes, a disregard for rules and most likely some type of smoking.

"Dad?" Stan stood in the entrance way to the living room. The scientist had a baseball game on the television, but he watched his beer bottle.

Randy startled sitting upright. "Stan! Finally joining your father for a sports game?"

"Rockies?" Stan questioned.

"Yankees versus Red Sox," Randy corrected with a smile, the rivals was always a crowd pleaser.

"No. Can you drive me to the mall? I need new clothes," Stan explained.

"Is there a new trend?" Randy perked up. He always wanted to be part of the in-crowd.

"Not really."

"You're not doing the metro thing again are you?" Randy worried. Although he had caught up in not-so-cool trends in the past (like the 80's man-short shorts) he thought metro was by far the worst trend.

"No!" Stan reassured. He did not question how similar the assumption that he was going metro went along with his teachers' assumption that he was gay. "I need to find my own person. I'm going punk."

"Punk?! Wow that does sound cool!" Randy grabbed his keys leaving his half drunk beer on the table.

--

Punk as far as color was not very much different then goth. Except with goth they wore soft turtlenecks and black jeans. Punks wore girl pants, tight shirts under leather jackets, and collars. Stan had one around his neck and two leather bands around his wrists. He also wore leather boots. Randy Marsh suggested and paid for the last change, a tongue ring.

"Woah! Man did that hurt?" Clyde asked. He, Token, Bebe, and Wendy took interest in his new look and Kyle was no where to be seen. That was a good thing right?

"Yeah," Stan was happy that he did not receive a lisp from the ring. "But not right away, only when I started eating again."

"That's neat Stan. I heard that they make kissing even better." Wendy said. She leaned forward giving Stan the chance to look down her shirt.

He stepped back. "Yeah I'll get back to you on that."

"Wendy," Token warned his girlfriend. She always wanted what she could not have.

All action and conversation ended when the bell rang. The five friends groaned at the annoyance. "Well see you later, Stan?" Bebe wondered. She had class in another building.

Wendy also had class in another building but she stayed put. Bebe and the other boys stared at her. "Aren't you coming Stan?" Wendy asked. She pursued her lips, she continued, "Because your attire should not affect your studies. I know punks like to rebel from the man, but that's not cool. Without trying you're an average student. If you want to get into college you'll need to try a bit more."

Stan's mouth gaped open. He suddenly felt relieved that he no longer pined for Wendy. She was too bossy. Kyle was easy going compared to her. That was until yesterday.

"I was planning to go to class." Stan admitted. He knew that he needed to disregard rules to be a punk, but he did not want to get detention either.

"Good I'm glad my talk helped."

"Right, okay," Stan led the way. Why his locker happened to be in a building that none of his classes were in always confused him.

The class was half full when Stan led the others inside. Kenny sat firmly beside Kyle. Stan did not notice nor did he see the surprised looks of Kenny or Butters. He certainly did not see Kyle's look of unsurprised.

Stan sat in what used to be Kenny's seat.

When the final bell rang, the final person stumbled in. "Mrs. Vulva! Mrs. Vulva, I have an announcement to make," Cartman skidded to a halt in front of his teacher's desk. He huffed a little trying to catch his breath.

Now Mrs. Vulva tended to think the best of people and was very gullible. So without sarcasm or any sign of anger she agreed, "Of course, you should be a reporter Eric."

"Thank you," Cartman turned to the class. He pulled out a poster he drew up earlier. Holding it up, he read the caption. "Craig and Tweek are missing!"

He turned to stable the missing poster, poster next to the white board in the front of the class. "They have not been seen since Monday. That's three days and four if this day ends without them!" Eric continued. "Furthermore I checked with the cable company. Between 4 and 5 the television in Craig's house has been off!"

A loud gasp sounded. Before this information the issue was as simple as a flu virus. No flu would keep Craig away from Red Racer.

"Tweek's home has also received no programming during that time. Personally I blame Clyde, Token and Jimmy. They conspired to get them out of the picture. They were jealous of the pair. Like Stan, they no longer wanted to be a side project to Craig. Tweek, well he just got in the way."

"Cartman!" Kyle scolded. The three accused to shocked to be bothered.

"Fine, but you better watch it Kahl," Cartman nudged his head in Stan's direction. "Anyway this evening if the two boys have not shown, I will organize a search and rescue for them. I'll do everything in my POWER to find them. Anyone willing is allowed to help."

"Very nice Eric," Mrs. Vulva clapped her hands. "Clyde, Token, Jimmy please go to the front office. I'm sure you'll need to be questioned."

"B-b-but," Jimmy stuttered.

"Go! Stan you need to go as well for Kyle's protection."

"Mrs. Vulva I do not think that's necessary," Kyle protested. He was more than a little annoyed. He could be learning something instead of watching Cartman manipulate their teacher.

"Are you sure?" Mrs. Vulva asked. She watched at the other three boys left.

The redhead wanted to roll his eyes but he refrained. He nodded his head instead.

--

Despite his declaration, Cartman's words hit the students in their gullible hearts. Kyle increasingly became annoyed. Even so it did not stop Stan from becoming his own person.

That day at lunch he lit a cigarette in the boys' bathroom. Nervously he placed the end into his mouth and sucked in a deep breath of air. Obviously Stan did not know how to smoke.

He began choking almost immediately. His eyes started to burn and water up, and finally his asthma kicked in, making it even harder to catch his breath. Blind from the tears, Stan searched his bag for his inhaler. It was a useless attempt.

As it became increasingly difficult to breath, Stan began to wonder if all of this was worth becoming his own person.

He wobbled on his feet losing his balance as his body fought simply to breath. The impact to his knees was incredible. He cried out at the sharp pain. The thought of the germ infested tile did nothing to keep him from keening over because of the pain.

"Stan!" Rang through his ears. It was Kyle. Stan knew the voice without fail. Within moments plastic was pressed to his lips and his inhaler meds began to open his smoke filled lungs.

Several minutes past before things came into focus and Stan could once again breathe properly. "Kyle?" Stan moaned his agony of earlier still lingering.

"Idiot! What the fuck were you doing? Smoking! That wouldn't help you find yourself. In fact, I think it's far from it. You, the person I know, went raw foods and eco friendly the moment you learned about it. Smoking? That's not the Stan I know."

Stan blushed. He was no longer only eat fresh organic foods but he still preferred them over processed junk, Kyle was right. "I wasn't thinking, I guess. That's what punk rebels do, right?"

"Stan being a punk rebel is not being your own person, it's being one of them," Kyle pointed out. "Wouldn't you rather be one with me instead of one of them?"

Stan flushed for a moment. Then he shook his head. "I don't know. I want to be myself, but I still want to have my own friends. I don't want to be like Butters."

"I think you should be yourself with your friends. If other people can't see you passed the friends you keep, then fuck 'em," Kyle stood from the floor. He offered to help Stan up, and he took it. "If you still want to, you can try to be a person on your own."

"I..." Stan was not sure. Kyle was being helpful and he actually made sense. Something that he must have been doing all along, Stan concluded. Still Stan felt offended. He did not want to be grouped and labeled. Not by Craig and Tweek or anyone. Craig and Tweek?

Suddenly the bathroom door flew open. Kenny stumbled in with Cartman, Butters slipped in behind them.

"Told ya! Stan got him alone," Cartman one-upped Kenny.

Kenny narrowed his eyes on Stan. Then he turned his glare on Kyle. "What are you doing wandering off with conspirers?"

"How did you escape them?" Stan curiously asked himself.

"I told them that they could hold my dick for me or they could back off," Kyle explained bitterly. "Butters almost thought I was serious."

"Butters," Stan glared at him, "That's not cool."

"Ah fellas he's going to attack me!" Butters hid behind Cartman.

The brunette took his role of protector very seriously. He stepped forward pointing a finger at Stan. "You were the last person to see Craig and Tweek, right? Wait what the hell are you wearing?"

"Clothes." Stan liked his clothes despite the collar.

"Well you and your clothes should hang out with them?" Cartman japed his thumb towards the door in the supposed direction of 'them'.

"Them?"

"The punks," Cartman watched Stan's face fall. "Yes Stan, the rebels you know the ones that want to be their own person all dress, act, and talk the same. They don't want to be different they just don't want to be normal."

"Shit," Stan glared at his clothes. He knew there were other punks he just never released how many. "Damn it!" Stan felt like he would much rather be Stan and Kyle then one of them.

"Fuck!" He muttered just before he stormed out of the room.

"Stan," Kyle called after him but he did not follow.

--