Sorry for the wait, I've just been so busy. Thank you to all adds and reviews so far! It's all cherished beyond belief! Hope you like your latest installment!
On the way to Stan's house Kyle confessed that he had put off writing a very demanding and significant paper for his American Government class. He insisted that Stan not come to pick him up and to be patient and wait until the next day to hang out. The football star was not feeling empathetic, though and decided to ignore Kyle's heeding and planned to secretly get him later. Stan and him split a few blocks from Stan's house; he took a different route and ended up walking by Cartman's house. He found himself slowing down and eventually coming to a complete stop by the front yard. He crossed his arms over his virile chest and glared…
How dare he stare at Kyle like that. Undressing him with his pudgy, dirty goddamn eyes. What a fucking asshole. To think a fat ass like him is fantasizing about Kyle, my Kyle!
He blushed…
Well…Kyle's not mine …but…he's my friend, my Super Best Friend. That counts.
Stan started walking again, assuring himself that no one could read his mind, thus he was free of any actual embarrassment. Knowing, himself, though, that he had that strange phrase pop into his mind uncalled for haunted him. There was no room for cross-outs in his mind. He got to his house and wasted time, flipping through channels and daydreaming on the couch, occasionally having a rational and coherent thought about what Wendy may want to talk to him about after school that upcoming Monday. He texted Kenny, asking him to repeat the time and place he was supposed to meet Wendy, but the blonde didn't reply. He let a few hours pass, then ran up to his room to get his jacket, resolving to force Kyle out of his house.
Kyle was home alone that afternoon and finished his paper relatively early. He did not call Stan right away, though. He knew Stan was home, possibly making outside plans with Kenny or Eric. He descended the staircase into his living room, nearly passing the bookcase beside the threshold to his kitchen. He paused, settling his gaze on the bottom shelf that contained several photo albums. He noted to himself that he had never actually looked through them and a strange curiosity took over him. He bent down, picking the thickest one up; it was crème colored with lace criss-crossing over the spine. He sat down in front of the fire place and opened it up; there were no photos of him or Ike, however. There were only those of his parents and their wedding day. He smiled, looking at his mother when she had such a model's figure, long, thick hair and a young, girlish face. Her dress looked beautiful on her; Kyle recalled having seen it in the basement before. She was saving it for a daughter she thought she'd have. Kyle looked down at that, setting the photos aside as he let the idea sink in; he wondered if his mother regretted having him. Oh, and what a regret it would become if she found out his sexual displacement.
He sighed; if only he had been born a girl. A girl that would grow to be pretty and strong like his mother. A girl wouldn't be as weak as he felt and a girl would be more level-headed than to crush on their best friend. In truth, he was terribly confused. He didn't know if he wanted to be a girl, or he just wanted to be treated like a girl or was only curious to how girls functioned---he was lost. And who could help him? Certainly not his mother, certainly not his father, certainly not his Rabbi. He rose from his seat, turning into the kitchen and descending another staircase into the basement. He walked to the back of the frigid cellar until he found a back closet; he opened it to find his sister's prom dress, his father's tuxedo and his mother's wedding gown.
Stan was approaching the house, watching his breath form into fog before his face. He wondered if he was pitiful for not having the ability to last more than a few hours without Kyle. He brushed it off and walked up the cement walk-way to Kyle's front door, well aware that the key was under the Welcome Mat. He unlocked the door and slithered through, a smirk growing on his face at his ninja-like grace. He could hardly contain his laughter when he pictured Kyle's shock at him being in the house.
Kyle had spent a good twenty minutes staring at himself in the full-length mirror, wondering if white and pearl flattered him. He collapsed onto the carpeted floor, the lace, chiffon and tulle puffing up around him as if he were sitting on a cloud. He had taken the courtesy of borrowing his mother's wedding jewelry as well, finishing the beautiful, satin appearance. He loved the dress; anyone would, straight or not. It was a fairly simple dress; no elaborate or complex designs trailing down the gown, no diamonds imbedded in the spaghetti straps, nothing ridiculous. The simplicity, though, made it elegant and sophisticated, especially with the pearls and lace. He sighed,
If only I was a girl…then it would be okay to like him.
His eyes lowered, gazing at his dainty hands in his lap…
If only…I was a girl…
His fingers crawled into his palms, his brows tightening…
I could be…someone he could maybe love…
Kyle imagined being a girl; his figure was tiny, feminine and his lashes were long and a little more curled. His hair reached his mid-back, his legs were tall and curvy and his chest was big; just like his mother's. His chin was rounded, his jaw was dulled; a girl's face. She was beautiful. She was in a light green skirt and an orange long-sleeve turtle-neck, matching argyle knee-high socks with two dark green ribbons in her hair. She was suddenly engulfed by strong arms, then a familiar face appeared on her shoulder, kissing her cheek; she turned around, smiling majestically as she wrapped her arms around his neck, getting on her toes to kiss him. He left his fantasy, opening his eyes as his hands released their grip.
If I was a girl…I could make him happy…
At that, the door abruptly opened, nearly stopping Kyle's heart in its practiced routine.
"St-Stan?! What the fuck are you doing!?"
The athlete's handsome face was filled with blood, stammering, "U-Uhm…I could ask you the same question…"
Kyle looked away, his knees brought up to his chest,
"I…told you I couldn't hang out today."
"I know, but I didn't care."
Kyle scoffed, "You're so stupid."
Stan stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, "You're just saying that cause I caught you doing something you didn't want me to catch you doing."
The redhead pouted, still unable to look at his friend, "You're a jerk for not knocking."
The corner of Stan's lips tugged, "Then I'm sorry. Okay?"
"Is it…messed up?"
"What?" Stan responded, venturing closer…
"Me…dressing up like this?"
Stan sat down next to the boy, exhaling deeply before replying,
"Well…I didn't see it coming, but it's not messed up. I'd never think that about you."
Kyle nodded slowly, his lips pursing, "Thanks."
"You actually…" Stan gulped inaudibly, tingling pinching at his stomach, "…look really pretty."
His satin curls bobbed as he sharply turned his face to Stan; the artistic alignment of his muscles and the poetic shine of his skin accented the pearl necklace he wore angelically. His freckles were layered with an endearing shade of pink, his ears a bit red too…
"Pretty? You think I look pretty like this?"
"Yeah."
"…pretty?"
Stan chuckled nervously, "Yeah…it's not like…it's not like I can say handsome, cause it isn't made for guys and I figured calling you beautiful would freak you out. It's what I meant, though."
Kyle simpered, glancing to the mirror momentarily before looking back to Stan from beneath his lashes and stating shyly,
"That wouldn't freak me out."
Stan flustered, looking away from the enchanting, jade gaze of his childhood friend as he told him,
"Then I think you look beautiful."
"Thank you…"
Stan turned back around, facing Kyle as he stammered, "W-well, I always think you're beautiful, I mean, you always are beautiful, even when you don't try or anything…"
Kyle and Stan both visibly blushed; furiously. The freckled teen took the responsibility of sparking conversation again by filling the silent room with,
"Thank you, Stan…that's…really…uhm…flattering."
"Kye…"
"Yeah?"
Stan raised his hand a little, tilting his head slightly as he finished, "Can I…can I touch you?"
Kyle's heart skipped a beat, heating his face further until he nodded twice, nearly whispering, "Y-yeah…"
Stan hesitantly allowed his hand to cup Kyle's cheek, running his thumb over the rose-coated, velvety complexion; the same rhythm he had used when they walked to go ice-skating. Stan noted to himself that he should take classes on impulse-control.
"Stan…"
His azure stare was bolted to Kyle's lips, though; those thick, enticing, gorgeous, silk lips…
"Stan…"
He ran his thumb over Kyle's bottom lip…
"Kye…"
"Stan?"
"…kiss me."
Stan's lids felt heavy as his proximity tightened against the glowing, divine boy beside him; his palm held to Kyle's chin, bringing him closer. Kyle's eyes were gradually closing in sync, his heart pounding in his ears until an abrupt buzzing noise frightened them both. Stan snapped away, reaching into his pocket to his vibrating cell phone,
Text Received at: 7:24 P.M.
From: Trick Daddy Kenny Mactastic
Sry didn't get ur text til now ur in rm 203 rite aftr scool
Stan glared at the device, shutting it and shoving it down his pocket again. He looked to the redheaded angel, his aura and countenance even more breath-taking than usual, adorned in such precious things. He stood up, announcing, "Well…uhm…I guess I'll leave you to get dressed and…you'll meet me downstairs."
Kyle nodded fervently, not making eye-contact; Stan bit his bottom lip, feeling a headache coming on as he left the room. He descended the stairs, recalling the fascination he had to Kyle's graceful waltz down the very same staircase less than a week prior…
What is going on with me?
