Disclaimer:See chapter one.

Author's Note I: Thanks for all the reviews! Feel free to deliver more :)

Author's Note II: This chapter is for eishi, 'cuz she's an awesome writer and you should all go read her work!

Author's Note III: Sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes, and for incorrect usage of words. English is not my native tongue.

Paper Saucer

Chapter Four: The Ex

Stan lay in his bed, his arms supporting his head as he stared blankly at the ceiling above. He's been in this position for hours now, ever since Kyle and Sarah dropped him off. He did not even bother to brush his teeth, change his clothes or check if he has anything left to do for the next day. He simply untied his shoes, did not bother to take them off and fell onto his bed, feeling exhausted. This exhaustion, though, probably was not a reason enough for him to fall asleep. Thoughts ran wild through his mind, back and forth, like a ping-pong ball which he followed with his eyes until he was too dizzy, and eventhen sleep refused to take him to its peaceful realms.

Kyle remembers. He didn't know whether he should feel exhilarated about it or saddened. Kyle has Sarah. If Kyle indeed remembers the agreement then obviously he has no interest in his best friend, for if he had, he would have waited that one month. Stan's head begun to ache and he groaned miserably.

It may be a mistake, he told himself. Maybe Kyle dropped the glass because he couldn't hold it, because his hand was too tired or he lost his focus for a minute. That could be the reason, he decided. But, he noted, this would also mean that Kyle wasn't completely over his illness. That was not a good thing.

And yet, Stan preferred his latter conclusion.

He turned his head to the left, gazing at his bottom drawer were the Stella Artois saucer-agreement was hidden (for reasons he did not know himself) beneath a stack of papers, which were related to nothing, really. He sighed, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

I'll wait.

The words entered his mind without permission and Stan's eyes went wide at the sudden memory. Those were the last words he heard from Drake when they broke up not too long ago. Drake pecked him on the cheek then, smiled hesitantly and left him with his wishful thinking that was supported by a damned paper saucer.

The saucer that has him now awake at 6A.M

The saucer that had Sarah's favorite beer's name written all over it in big, white letters.

The saucer that caused his breakup with Drake…

He met Drake at a local gay bar about four months ago. He went there after Kyle's endless bugging caused him to want to change his number whenever his best friend's name appeared on the screen.

"Come on, Stan!" he said during their last phone conversation about the matter. "It wouldn't be so bad!"

"Damn it, Kyle, why should I go there alone?" Stan argued back, his fingers tightening their hold on the device.

"Because then you'll be an even easier small-talk target! It's ingenious, dude!" Kyle argued back, not that Stan expected him to do otherwise.

"Well then, what about you? Why should I go and try to get a date by myself? You're just as single as I am!"

"You don't want me to go to a gay bar, do you? Trust me, Stan, I can manage."

"Well, so can I!" Stan replied, his frustrations growing as he realized he was fighting against a lost cause; Kyle will obviously get his way.

"Of course you can. That's why every date you went to up until now was a complete failure!"

"Well then, what makes you think it won't repeat itself this time?" he asked in desperation, trying to make Kyle see his way, though he knew it would not work.

"Because it won't. Just go!" and then, just like that, he hung up on him. Of course Stan could just ignore it, but he knew he'll never hear the end of it if he didn't do as he was asked, or rather commanded. So he took a shower, put on a nice shirt and his new pair of denim and went out, sulking to himself. He really didn't care he won't attract anyone this way.

The lighting in the bar was dimmed and as he entered the horrid smell of cigarette smoke entered his nostrils and caused him to cough nastily into his palm. He hated this place, he really did. He only went there once after he moved into this city, and he was starting to reconsider his recent decision and to contemplate whether he should just go to Kyle's place and beg him to leave it be, to tell him that his knight in shiny armor would just appear and that there was no need to look for him in stinky gay bars.

I'm already here, might as well try and make something out of it, he thought and took his seat at the counter. He was about to signal his presence to the bar tender and order a shot that would have him dead, when a conversation to his right caught his attention. He was sitting next to a light brown haired man, dressed in a suit with a loosened tie. Stan figured he probably went there straight from his office. He was talking on his cell-phone, smiling and waving his hand nonchalantly.

"Yeah, I've been here for an hour now," he said loudly in order to be heard over the loud music. "Nothing interesting," he concluded, laughed, and took a long gulp of his Heineken (or so said the glass).

"What can I get for you, sir?" the bartender asked him, which made him to turn and face him.

"Uhh…" Stan said, returning his gaze to his right shortly after. "I'll just have what he's having," he said, nodding towards the man. The bartender looked, nodded, and left to pour it for him.

"Told ya it'll do no good to come here alone, you should have come with me!" the man continued into his phone, laughing. "So what if you're a girl? We would have had a blast here!"

His beer was served then, and Stan had to turn his head away again in order to pay. He took a sip, staring at the bottles stacked on the shelves as he strained his ears to listen to the remainder of the conversation. When he heard nothing he was forced to turn to look again, and at that moment the man chose to stare right back at him.

Stan choked on his drink and coughed. He could swear he heard the man snickering. When the coughing attack was over he returned his gaze to the shelves, bur he felt the other's eyes still on him and was forced to look away from the bottles. "Uh…" he said, gripping his glass tightly as if it would save him from making a fool out of himself. He's probably just staring because he noticed me eavesdropping. "So… you're… here alone too?"

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. "Yeah," was the reply.

Stan smiled. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

The man threw his head back and laughed loudly, causing Stan to think that he had his fare share of alcohol for the night. "Totally."

They stared at each other for awhile more, and then the man extended his hand and smiled. "I'm Drake," he said, and it was then that Stan noticed that he had green eyes. Kyle's are prett-

"I'm Stan," he said quickly before he could finish the thought, shaking his hand firmly with Drake's. The smiles were mutual.

One thing led to the other, and two days later they went on their first date. Drake was a couple of years older than Stan. He was an MIT graduate (so was Kyle!) and worked at some hi-tech company. He possessed a great sense of humor and was a very interesting person in general. He was about an inch taller than Stan and much more experienced in the field of dating.

He also proved to be very experienced between the sheets.

"Told you so," was Kyle's congratulation when he first heard the news of Stan's new boyfriend, which came at a very inconvenient time. Stan, though, didn't pay any heed to his comment. He was up on cloud nine, a feeling he had not had in a long time. Drake's kisses to his shoulders made him feel numb and he moaned quietly. Kyle apparently heard it. "Stan, dude, if you're in the middle of something I really don't want to interrupt."

"Yeah," Stan said and didn't even bother to deliver a proper goodbye before he pressed the "End" button and gave in completely to his boyfriend's moves.

"Who was that?" Drake asked huskily, reaching to unbuckle Stan's belt.

"Kyle," he replied, already half panting. "He made me go to the bar that time."

"That best friend of yours?"

"Ugh… yeah…" Drake silenced any further conversation with a deep kiss, which Stan received more then happily, even more so when in his mind, even if he didn't pay it much attention, it was his best friend that was kissing him.

Things continued somewhat wonderfully like that for about three months. The day of their breakup started as usual: they met for dinner, had a nice chat, and went up to Stan's apartment for dessert. Within seconds they were naked and on Stan's bed, kissing and touching and panting.

"Where are your condoms?" Drake whispered into his ear, and Stan half moaned that he kept them in his drawer. Too bad he forgot to mention which. So after Stan lay under Drake - eyes closed with anticipation and hands gripping the sheets beneath him – for about two minutes, he cracked one eye open to see what was wrong.

"What's taking you so long?" he asked, leaving the sheet in favor of Drake's bare back.

"Stan…" Drake began, and just like that. With that pressing tone of his voice, the mood was ruined. "Who's Kyle?"

Stan blinked in puzzlement. "My best friend, you know that. What does that has to do with anything?" Drake remained in the same position for a few moments before he lifted the saucer for Stan to see.

The bottom drawer.

Stan averted his gaze, ashamed. Drake sighed heavily and got up from the bed. "I think I deserve an explanation."

Fully dressed and sitting at his kitchen table, Stan explained the situation; how he held unclear feelings for his best friend, how his best friend made up this agreement, how he signed it, how… whenever Drake kissed him in his mind he held an image of red curls and greener eyes.

"So… I see," Drake said, holding his mug with two hands. He sighed. "If… if you confront him about it… and it won't… I'll wait." He concluded, smiled hesitantly and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Then he left.

All Stan could do was cry.

The phone shook him out of his reverie and he glanced at the caller I.D.

Kyle.

Automatically he reached for his cell phone and was about to press "Send", when suddenly he remembered what happened a few hours before. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer anymore…

He gulped. "Hello?" he asked with a voice that sounded to high-pitched to be his own.

"Stan?" came Kyle's reply. "I'm sorry I'm calling this early, but… there's something I have to ask you." Stan paled.

Here it comes…

To Be Continued…