Stan crept out of his house as noiselessly as he could. Outside, snow was falling, and the snow crunched beneath his feet as he quietly cursed himself for not wearing more than a tee-shirt and his jacket. In a place like South Park you could never be wearing too many layers, especially at night in the middle of winter. Stan shivered, feeling stupid and then angry, angry at Kyle because he was the reason Stan was out in the cold in the first place. He was the reason Stan was feeling so useless, angry, confused, hurt and, surprisingly, even happy, because the kiss had awakened a part of himself that he hadn't even known existed, and it was thrilling at the same time as it was fucking terrifying. As he rounded the bend that lead to Kyle's block he felt his anger coming in steady waves, burning red behind his eyes and mingling with the excitement that was coming from god-knows where at the prospect of seeing the small, ginger-haired Jew, filling Stan with a passionate energy that was going to be unleashed full-force. Tonight was the night for revenge.

He kissed you, and now he's ruining your life with these feelings. Make him hurt, make him pay, make him moa-

He cut himself off, trying to ignore the sudden pleasant throb in the pit off his stomach. Be angry. It's his fault. Entirely his fucking fault.

Creeping around the side of the Broflovski house, he made his way through the snow carefully until he'd reached the window that he'd snuck through a thousand times, for secret sleepovers, for attempts to coax the book-smart boy out on a Friday night to have some actual fun with his friends, even once on Christmas eve when he'd known Kyle had been feeling left out. He was about to knock when he realised he didn't want to give Kyle the satisfaction of watching him scramble awkwardly through the window, because this was no ordinary night (and if he saw Kyle looking all tired and confused his heart strings might snap at the sight and he'd never get the satisfaction of punching the boy in the face). No, he wanted Kyle to be caught by surprise. He wanted Kyle to be scared of him, as soon as he saw him, and that just would not happen if Stan was to gain entry through Kyle's own admission to let him in.

He tried to think of another way to get in. The door would all be locked, the windows all shut... But there was always Ike. He crept a little further around the side of the house, and fumbled for a rock beneath the cold, thin layer of snow. Finding one that didn't seem too large, he looked above him, where there was a faint light to be seen creeping beneath a drawn curtain in the upper story of the house. Taking aim, he threw, not too hard, and winced as the rock hit the window with a shallow-sounding crack. Next thing he knew, there was a drowsy-looking, dark-haired boy's head sticking out the window. He waited as the pre-teen's eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark, and he could see the dark-haired head straining outwards in the effort to find the person who'd woken him. When the young Canadian finally made out the shape of Stan, the older boy saw him grin with recognition, pleasant surprise at he contact shining through eyes were still slightly droopy from sleep.

"Hey there, Romeo. Did you bring me flowers?" Stan grinned at the young boy's cheeky playfulness, a feature he shared with his admittedly slightly more serious brother. When they had been younger, Stan, Kyle and the others had found Ike increasingly annoying (Kyle usually still did), but the younger boy had developed a wicked sense of humour over the years, and at the age ten was (in Stan's opinion) a pretty neat kid. Even if he did still sleep with a night light.

"Get your ass down here and let me in," the older boy hissed upwards in a harsh whisper, his tone contrasting with his face, which he pulled an exaggerated face with for the boy's amusement. Ike responded with a laugh, and then gave a puzzled look between Stan and the direction of his older brother's bedroom window. His eyes darted back and forth for a few seconds until Stan thought he saw a mild sort of comprehension dawn on the boy's face. He let out a relieved sigh as Ike's head disappeared, the window being shut and the curtain drawn once more.

In a few moments he was being let in the back door, which led into the garage. Stan thanked the young boy with an affectionate ruffle of dark hair, and told him to go back to bed, an order that Ike was all too glad to follow, though he walked away complaining that he was never going to get back to sleep. Stan rolled his eyes and went to stand in front of Kyle's closed bedroom door, quietly letting his anger build slowly from the pit of his stomach to fill all the rest of his body until even his fingertips were tingling with furious energy, wanting to punish Kyle for the way that he had changed their lives forever. He knew deep in his heart that things would never, never be the same again. This thought made him madder than ever, and taking a deep breath, he charged inside, the door swinging shut behind him.