Disclaimer: I do not own South Park; it is the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker.


Nothing particularly strange happened during the first few hours of class—well, nothing strange for South Park anyways. Garrison continued on his rants about the Bachelor, and Stan tuned him out. Thankfully, there were no notes for him today. In fact, it seemed as though pretty much everyone was content to ignore him.

Figures, he thought, that they'd take Wendy's side.

At one point, Garrison was called out of class for one reason or another, and the students were left to their own devices. Chatter immediately began around Stan, but he mostly continued to ignore it, catching only snippets of the conversations around him.

"—only got a C, because I said Kelly was better for Michael—"

"—farted on Phillip's face! It might be the funniest—"

"—suppose it is? There can't be that many gay—"

"—nerve of him not even trying to apologize for what he—"

That last voice was Bebe, causing Stan to wince. Even though he still liked Wendy as a friend, he'd never really been very fond of her best friend. Bebe perpetuated issues and made them out to be worse than they actually were. Plus, he'd never really forgiven her for hurting Kyle for the List incident, and then trying to kill them to cover it up. Personally, Stan thought the blonde was fucking nuts. He'd never really understood why Wendy continued to hang out after that.

Then again, he thought, Kyle and I have done a lot of arguably unforgivable shit to each other over the years, and yet we're still super best friends.

Stan looked at Kyle. He had been hurt by the redhead in the past, true. Some of which he still hadn't quite gotten over, despite having forgiven the jewish boy. But he needed Kyle. The other boy was like… like… Stan wasn't even sure. He just knew that a life without Kyle in it just wasn't one worth living.

Kyle glanced up from where he'd been doodling on a sheet of paper and caught Stan's gaze. Smiling a bit, he arched a brow at his best friend and asked, "What's up?"

Stan shrugged. "Nothin', just thinking." He leaned in to look at Kyle's notebook, "Whatcha doin'?"

Kyle reflexively jerked his page away, then sheepishly turned it back for Stan to see. "Don't laugh."

It was a drawing of the Human Kite, Toolshed, and Mysterion, kicking the shit out of the Coon. Stan grinned widely at it, looking back at Kyle with glittering blue eyes. "Haven't thought about those four in a few years. You hoping for a resurrection?" he asked.

A tinge of color spread over Kyle's cheeks, and he pulled the paper back. "No. I mean… not like. Well, we got into a lot of shit with them. I was just… reminiscing, you know? Been feeling a bit nostalgic for Kite lately."

Stan nodded. Sometimes, he missed Toolshed too. Or rather, he missed the general sense of freedom and childishness that came with being superheroes. Toolshed didn't have to worry about drinking or scaring away his friends or dealing with an alcoholic father who didn't give a shit. Toolshed was just a badass who used power tools to fight crime.

Unfortunately, his dad had reclaimed the power tools when he went on the house flipping craze with Stan's mother, so Toolshed had been out of commission for nearly two months. By then, the rest of the kids had moved on to playing a different game.

Stan had always been a bit bitter of the fact that he never got to let Toolshed go out with a bang.

"You still have the costume?" Stan asked curiously.

Kyle chuckled. "I do. Doesn't fit anymore though, since I started my growth spurt." Stan had figured as much. Shortly into fifth grade, Kyle had begun growing up and up and up, and he had yet to stop. Kyle was the third tallest in their class, after Token and Craig. It had been a complete shock to all of their friends, considering that Gerald was average height, and Sheila was one of the shortest adults in town.

Stan had gained a few inches as well. He certainly wasn't as short as Butters or Clyde, at least. At the moment though, the top of his head was about even with Kyle's brow line. A fact which Kyle definitely enjoyed teasing him about from time to time.

Kyle waved a hand at him, and Stan blinked, realizing he'd missed what his best friend had said. "What?" he asked.

With a sigh, he repeated, "I said, do you want to hang out after school? You aren't still grounded, are you?"

Stan shook his head, "Nah. But, uh… I doubt your mom will want us hanging if you could catch the flu." He wasn't sure why he was making excuses. A part of him was just nervous about being alone with his best friend too often.

Kyle waved him off. "It'll be fine. You don't seem sick. Besides, we don't have to go to my house."

"Don't you have to study?"

"I'm sure I can get it done later tonight." The redhead frowned. "Come on, Stan, let's just do something. Just us."

"I already have plans," Stan blurted out.

Kyle blinked, his frown deepening. "You… do? With who?"

Shit. Stan cast around for an excuse. Any excuse. Come on Stan, you jackass, think of something before he catches you in your lie.

"My…" he hesitated, "my friend. The one that, you know." God, he hated lying to Kyle. He hated being scared to spend time with him alone. But he had to. He couldn't… couldn't trust himself.

Just going to drive him away again.

"Oh." Kyle looked down at his notebook. "Okay." Stan's heart lurched at seeing his best friend so disheartened.

"I'm really sorry, Kyle," he said sincerely. Because he was sorry. Sorry that he couldn't let himself show Kyle the shitty cynical person he truly was. "He just… he has a shit home life, and I'm… I want to be supportive, you know? If I had known you wanted to hang out tonight…" He let the words hang, unable to bring himself to finish the lie.

You're such a fucking piece of shit, Marsh.

Kyle shook his head. "It's fine. You're fine." The redhead boy smiled at him. Stan's stomach felt hollow at how forced the smile was. "No big deal," Kyle continued, "we see each other at school all the time anyways. And there will be other times to hang, right?"

Stan nodded. "Right."

Garrison returned shortly after that, wearing a bright pink wig for some reason. Kyle turned back to the front to pay attention, and Stan let his eyes glass over as he tuned everything out, leaving him alone with his thoughts.


When the lunch bell rang, Stan decided he wasn't hungry for whatever shit they were serving. As his three friends left for the lunch room, he slipped out of the school and made his way around to the back of the building.

There they sat, smoking their cigarettes and bitching about the other students.

"Hey," Stan said, sliding in next to Pete.

"You're wearing your douchebag prep clothes, Raven," Henriette retorted, her voice more annoyed than usual.

"We don't want a conformist like you tthhppft ptthff pppphtht," Firkle muttered, though shit just started spewing from his mouth before Stan caught the last of his words. He blew smoke out directly into Stan's face.

Stan coughed and glared at the four of them. "Fuck off, assholes. I'm not in the fucking mood to deal with your 'can only wear black when you hang with us' rules right now."

Michael glanced at him. "What's got your panties in a twist, Marsh?"

"Everything's just… it's all shitty," he growled. "I don't want to be around my other shitty friends right now because I'll 'offend their senses' and 'bum them out'." He rolled his eyes. "So, I figure it's better to hang out with you douchebags, since you already hate me."

Michael shrugged. "Whatever. As long as those other posers don't try to follow you."

Pete just watched him from the corner of his eye, smoking his cigarette. They others went back to griping about conformists, but Pete remained silent, eyeing him.

Finally, it began to get the better of Stan's nerves, and he snapped, "What the fuck do you want?"

Pete shrugged. "If memory serves, you have a little vice to get you through your shitty moods. What happened, did a teacher catch you?"

"My mom forced me to drive with her to school today. Couldn't get anything to bring with me to school." He let an angry breath out through his nose. "Now I have to go through the rest of the fucking day with everything turning into shit around me."

Pete smirked, "Well, I don't mind you so much like this. Better than when you act like a fucking Timberlake."

"Yea, well, you're about the only one. Everyone else just shuts me out when I tell them the truth."

The goth boy took a moment to inhale through his cigarette, then said, "Well, if you don't want to deal with them, you could always ditch."

Stan shook his head, "My mom would find out, then I'd be facing even more shit than I already am." He scowled, "I just don't want to have to listen to Garrison or Cartman or anyone else spew shit out of their mouths."

"You could always just go get something to drink."

Stan let out a sarcastic laugh. "Right, because this shitty town will sell a liquor to a twelve-year-old."

Pete shrugged. "They don't sell smokes to them either, and yet here I am." For emphasis, he sucked smoke through the cigarette, then ashed it out on the sidewalk. "There are ways around the shitty conformist rules, Stan."

"Doesn't matter," Stan mumbled, "we're already in school anyways, so—"

"Would you stop being a fucking goody-two-shoes for once? There's a convenience store around the corner. We'll get something there."

"I already told you I couldn't ditch."

Pete snorted. "Don't worry, I'll have you back before anybody misses you. Come on."

Stan looked at the other three. Henrietta and Michael just stared back at him and breathed through their cigarettes. A lump of shit was in the place where Firkle used to be.

Stan let out a slow breath, then followed Pete away from the school.


There were no cars in front of the convenience store when they reached it. In fact, the entire lot seemed to be deserted, except for a few older teenagers loitering near the back of the store. Pete led Stan straight to them.

"Heads up you Bieber pricks," Pete said, strolling up to them. The three boys straightened and looked down at then, mixed expressions on their faces. Stan was surprised to find that he actually recognized one of them.

"Kevin?" he asked, staring up at the older boy.

The eldest McCormick kid frowned, then squinted at Stan. "Hey… you're Shelly's brother, aren't you?"

Rather than answer the older boy, Stan turned to Pete. "Dude, if word of this gets back to my mom, I'll literally never be allowed to leave the house again."

"Relax, Raven," Pete replied, then turned to the older boys. "I need a pack of cigarettes and a case of—" he eyed Stan up and down, "what do you drink?"

Stan clenched his jaw. Was Pete not listening? If Kevin told his sister about this, then he was fucked for life. Everyone was staring at him though. "Just… Bud Light is fine."

Pete scrunched up his nose. "Nasty. Whatever." He handed Kevin forty bucks. "Make it happen, McCormick."

Stan was confused. Kevin and Shelly were in the same grade at South Park High—in fact, Stan was positive that Kevin had just turned sixteen about a month ago. "He gonna shoplift it?"

One of the boys Stan didn't recognize said, "We've all got fake ID's."

"With those shitty attempts at stubble, you don't even look eighteen, let alone twenty-one."

"We're friends with the cashier," the boy who hadn't spoken yet replied.

Stan frowned, doubtful, but let it slide. Instead he just stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned up against the side of the building. A moment later, Pete joined him. Stan eyed his friend, then asked, "What's with you being so cool lately?"

"Don't look too much into it, Raven."

That answer wasn't satisfactory at all, but Stan didn't think Pete would tell him anything else. "Fine, I'll get you a twenty when we get back to school." When the goth boy lofted a brow at him, Stan said, "For the beer."

Pete waved him off. "Don't bother. I don't need your money."

Stan stood up straighter. "Seriously Pete, what gives? You're being weirdly nice lately, and it's freaking me out."

The goth boy scowled. "Fine, jesus, you fucking pussy. Pay me back then."

Annoyance grew heavy in the back of Stan's mind, but before he could retort, Kevin returned. The older boy passed the cigarettes and the beer on to Pete. "That everything?" Kevin asked.

Pete tucked the cigarettes away into his jacket and handed the beer off to Stan. "Yea." He then turned and began walking back toward the school, leaving Stan to catch up with him.

"Hey, wait up," Stan called. Pete paused to allow Stan to fall in line with him. "Dude, we can't go waltzing back onto campus with a pack of beer. The adults here might be stupid as hell, but they won't overlook this." He hefted up the six pack for emphasis.

Pete ignored him, instead leading Stan passed the school towards the trees that led to Stark's Pond. They settled up against a copse of trees, and Stan checked his phone as he cracked a beer. In about twenty minutes they'd have to be back to school. He'd have to finish off the beers pretty fast.

As Stan tipped back the Bud Light, Pete lit up a cigarette. They didn't talk at all at first. Stan quickly finished off the first and was halfway through the second, before he had enough liquid courage to speak up. "Hey Pete?"

"What?"

"Is it…" Stan hesitated, "nevermind."

"Spit it out, Raven."

Stan chugged the rest of his beer, then moved onto the third bottle. He took a couple sips of that as well, then asked, "How did you know you were gay?"

The goth boy tossed off the bud of his cigarette then—to Stan's surprise—reached for a beer. Pete took a sip, then made a face at the taste. "Ugh, I can't believe you can drink this shit."

"Whatever gets the job done," chuckled Stan.

Taking another sip, Pete replied, "If that works."

Stan waited for Pete to answer his question, but when the goth boy only continued to drink his beer and grimace, Stan sighed. "Sorry, not trying to pry, dude."

Pete shook his head. "It's not that." He lit up another cigarette. "How did I know I was gay? I'm not really sure when it happened, really. I always seemed to know." He snorted out a laugh, then added, "I knew for sure when I was at a goth hangout and this girl tried to kiss me. It was fucking nasty. Might've been 'cause she was bad at it, but I knew it wasn't for me."

"Have you kissed guys then? Is it different?"

"Yea."

Stan blinked at that. "Really?"

Pete smirked, "Don't be so surprised, Stan."

"Well… I mean, you're goth. I thought you weren't into affection and love and stuff."

"Ugh, don't make it sound so fucking gay."

Stan let out a laugh and made an exaggerated gesture, spilling a bit of his beer. "Dude, we're literally talking about kissing guys. That's about as gay as it gets."

"It's not about being affectionate," Pete said, rolling his eyes. "That's for conformists. It's about power and feeling good."

"Power?"

Pete nodded, "When another person lets you get close enough to by physical with them, they give you power over them."

Stan frowned, "I've never thought about kissing that way. I never felt like I had power over Wendy."

"You didn't. She had power over you. Face it Raven, you're not a very dominant person."

"You make me sound weak."

Pete shrugged. "If that's how you want to look at it."

A silence reigned between them for a few minutes as Stan moved onto his fourth beer. Pete was about halfway through his first. Finally, Stan asked, "Do you think I'm weak?"

Pete looked and him. "I think you can be a whiney pussy when you want to be."

Stan wilted a bit. "Gee, thanks," he muttered.

The goth boy breathed out a puff of smoke. "Gonna let my comment make you act like a whiney pussy?"

Frowning, Stan shoved Pete away and stood, albeit a bit unsteadily. "Shut up, Pete, you fucking dick."

Pete didn't seem bothered in the least by Stan's attitude. "Or what?"

"Or… or I'll fucking deck you, that's what!"

"Broflovski's the one with the temper. You're too much of a pussy to hit me," Pete replied matter-of-factly.

At the mention of his best friend, Stan's temper faded and a sinking feeling filled its place. He dropped his head, allowing his hair to fall into his eyes, and turned away. "We should probably head back to school. Lunch will be over soon."

Pete remained where he was. "Go on back then, Timberlake. I don't give a shit about going back to school."

The sinking feeling deepened. "See you around then, Pete," he muttered, then began the slow trek back to school."


Hope this chapter is well received. I finally figured out the direction I want this story to go. Once again, thank you to all who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this story. Every one of them means a lot to me.