"How did your parents take it when they found Stan was following you to collage?"
"They didn't really care, I guess. I think they're just happy we're not going to the same collage, and, you know, sharing a dorm or something. That might have been a step to far for them."
"I wouldn't have thought they'd be so cool with it, you know?"
"Dude, three months ago Cartman threw a street carnival to out us. He had fireworks and frikkin' jugglers and clowns and everything. He superimposed a very incriminating photo of me on the front of my house. I really think my mom's given up the 'you're too dependent on Stan' fight."
Kenny softened, it had been a dramatic, closet door destroying outing. "I'm sorry."
"Eh, don't be. I now no longer have to meet with random ugly Jewish girls, and she's either too ashamed or scared to ask where I'll be spending the night. It's win-win in my book!"
Kenny frowned, glancing about. He'd absent-mindedly been following Kyle (literally walking behind him so he could stare at his arse), expecting Kyle to be heading home. But they weren't heading in the right direction, they were walking through a very empty high street.
"Where are we going anyway?"
Kyle glanced up from his phone screen, looking back at him. "We're gonna rescue Stan. He's stuck sitting between Cartman and Butters at that brunch thing you guys do after church. He's not best pleased. Butters is boring him and Cartman is crushing him."
Kenny chewed his lip, exasperated. He'd at least hoped to have Kyle to himself for a little while longer. He'd hoped they could hang out, or play video games or something. Something more then a stroll across South Park making quazi-too-personal awkward conversation, anyway.
"I didn't think he went to brunch anymore."
"Usually I'm his excuse. He leaves me at his house and pretends he has to get straight back before I get lonely and chew on his furniture or whatever. His mom knew I was busy though, she made him go, and now she won't let him leave."
"He leaves you alone in his house? That's a bit weird."
"Eh, usually I'm still asleep. He sneaks out and sneaks back before I wake up."
"Didn't think you were that heavy a sleeper."
"Perhaps Stan's just that good a sneaker."
Kenny smiled despite the aching pain this conversation was causing him. Kyle was clever.
"I wouldn't have thought Stan's parents would have been okay with, well, you know-" He made a lewd gesture. Kyle just smiled.
"They brought him a double bed the day after Cartman's carnival."
Kenny sighed.
"We should hang out some more, Kyle. You know, like have some bro time or whatever before you leave."
"Of course dude, I'm not going for, like, five months. They'll be plenty of time for us to do shit. Five months is an awful long time, after all." Kyle stopped to bang on some glass.
A minute later Stan leapt out of the diner, and Kenny inwardly groaned. Striding towards them he placed one hand on Kyle back (completely ignoring Kenny) and began hastily pushing him down the street.
"Dude! What took you so long?"
"I came as soon as I could! Kenny's dad had the truck. We had to walk back."
Stan glanced back at Kenny, who had been trailing them with a quirked eyebrow. "Oh hey Ken, how are you?"
"Eh, can't complain." Silently, he tacked on 'better before you joined us'.
Once they had rounded the corner, and were safely out of the way of the diner, Stan slowed down, dropping his arm from Kyle's back and sliding it round his waist, gently pushing Kyle against him.
Kenny couldn't help but watch. Even though it hurt. It hurt like a bitch. Even though it sucked, Kenny found it impossible to look away. For a moment he just imagined himself in Stan's position, he imagined that he was the one cuddling Kyle, that he was the one kissing his cheek and whispering secrets to him, he imagined that Kyle was glowing at him like that, Kenny imagined the joy of having Kyle snake an arm around his waist, the joy of feeling him pressed so close. For a moment he imagined Kyle was letting Kenny back him up against that cold brick wall.
Then Kenny blinked, and he was watching Stan lean over Kyle. He noticed that Stan was wearing a suit too. A dark blue, pinstriped thing that made his already broad quarterback frame seem that little bit broader. Suddenly Kenny felt very left out. It seemed the whole world was dressed up smart today, and there he was wearing his dad's torn, paint splattered jeans and an old, oil stained t-shirt. He didn't belong next to neatly groomed Stan and Kyle, all dressed to impress in their pressed Sunday best. He didn't belong anywhere.
Stan broke away from Kyle (causing Kyle to whimper and clutch at his lapels), glancing back, only just remembering a fiercely, dangerously, explosively envious Kenny was still there.
"Listen Kenny, I'm parked at the church. Just go wait by the car for a bit, we'll be right there, okay?"
Kenny glanced at the floor. There was an abandoned pen lying on the tarmac. Kenny briefly considered stabbing Stan through the throat with it, but that would probably upset Kyle. He really didn't want to upset Kyle. Sighing inwardly, he turned around and trudged off to the carpark, locating Stan's piece of shit Chevy easily enough amongst all the cars that had been made this millennia, and had panels were all the same colour.
Irritated he lent against the bonnet, trying desperately to think of anything, anything that wasn't Stan and Kyle, or, more pressingly, what Stan and Kyle were doing right now.
It wasn't working.
Five minutes later he considered keying Stan's car, but the vehicle was such a beat up piece of shit any mark Kenny made on it was sure to increase its attractiveness, not decrease it. Kenny sniffed, glancing down at the passenger side panel. A little to the left of the door handle there was a patch of intense scratches that looked as though someone had tried to claw their way through the metal. Kenny remembered how Stan had proudly declared those his favourite scratches. Kenny had asked him how he could choose a favourite when there were so many to pick from. Stan had informed him that those scratches had been made by the combination of Kyle's white studded belt, Kyle's arse, and the repetitive motion created during intercourse. He had then gone on to fully recount the event in such detail that by the end of it Kenny didn't know whether he was going to cum, cry, or kill someone.
Ten minutes later Kenny was remembering the day Stan had got this car, the day Stan turned sixteen. The car (Stan had called it Kylie, Kenny learnt years later) was old, beat up, but sturdy and reliable. The main body of it was a dingy blue, but the bonnet was a dull white, and Kenny had thought (and vocalised loudly) that it one of the ugliest cars he'd ever seen. Still, they had all piled in and Stan had intended to drive them to Denver. Half way there, sick of Carman insulting his ride and insulting his Kyle, he pulled up on the side of the road, physically pulled Cartman out of the car (no mean feat, considering the size of him), forced Kenny out too, for reasons Kenny wasn't quite sure of (he wondered if it was because he'd loudly dubbed the car Fugo Uggo), and then continued on his way with just Kyle. At the time, Kenny had thought Stan was just being a pussy. In hindsight, Kenny realised Stan was probably ecstatic to have an excuse to drive just-Kyle somewhere nice and secluded so he could fuck him repeatedly on the backseat with makeshift spit-lube.
Fifteen minutes later and Kenny was remembering the day after Cartman had outed Stan and Kyle. Kyle and been distraught and locked himself in his bathroom. Stan had been distraught and locked himself in Kyle's bathroom. Cartman had thrown and after carnival party, and Kenny'd been heartbroken and locked himself in his bedroom. He'd always suspected, but then everyone had. He'd allowed himself to believe that perhaps Kyle was attainable. That perhaps, just perhaps, him and Stan weren't like that. That perhaps Kyle could have a Super Best Friend and a boyfriend. Stan's sister had been furious, raging. She'd stormed out the house and used a screwdriver to engrave the word 'fag' impossibly deep on the driver side door. The next day (whist Stan's parents were buying him a new bed, apparently) she'd woken up, stolen her brothers keys, and driven his car somewhere. She brought it back twelve hours later with a brand new (second hand), bright kelly green drivers' side door, and a full tank of gas. She whispered an apology, and she gave him his keys back. And no one ever spoke of it again.
Twenty minutes later Kenny was beginning to think that perhaps he wasn't the only one who thought that Kyle looked particularly delicious in that soft grey suit.
Twenty-one minutes later Kenny swore, kicked Stan's car so hard he gave it another dent, and left.
