Thank everyone who read and/or reviewed! And as the last chapter was late I thought this one should be early, so here you are. Quite an angsty chapter, actually, but I'm hoping it'll answer some questions. Not going to give too much away though! Any reviews for this one are insanely appreciated (I'm begging now, yes I realise this)
Anyway, enjoy!
Amy xx
In a place as screwed up as South Park, it's really easy for someone to be a hero. Seriously, there are so many opportunities to save the town and everyone in it from complete and utter destruction, even I've done it. I've saved everyone from smug storms, zombies, floods, and a weird time a few years back when the town got overrun with cannibalistic midget celebrity clones (long story). Things have been quiet recently though, there's been less need for a hero. Freak illnesses strike every now and then. Tweek got possessed a while back and has since become unbearably close to Craig, who risked his life for him, but personal heroes like Craig aren't uncommon. Then there's me, near enough the definition of an anti-hero, with no one to save me from the thing that's threatened to rip my family apart so many times: alcoholism. Yeah, I admit to it. I'm not like Cartman; I don't get defensive when people bring it up. It's just a part of me. Judge away.
00
Stan felt better than he had in a while, and the reason was simple: he was looking into the forgotten face of his best friend, and the memories were flooding his brain. His eyes were green, vibrant glittering gems in his pale face, not some washed-out pansy colour. His hair wasn't black, but a seemingly-impossible-to-forget scarlet, the dry, knotted strands ruffling in the gentle breeze
'Dude.' He whispered 'Just... dude'
He was hugging too tight, if the tears in Kyle's eyes were anything to go on, but he couldn't help himself. The sheer realness of having him in his arms was better than he could have imagined, better than the dreams he'd kept safely locked in his head could have prepared him for. Because his dreams had been built on experience, built on the past, back when Kyle was an inch from death's door and willingly covering the distance...
'Stan! Quit raping him, I want in' Kenny's voice shattered the perfect moment, and the pair broke apart, an awkward chuckle escaping Stan's lips.
He couldn't help watching as the pair embraced, couldn't help but notice how Kyle's eyes didn't glitter as much when he looked at the blond, even when he smiled at something he'd said, how Kenny wasn't the right height for them to hug comfortably, how his arms wound too low. Stan noticed everything, and felt unexpectedly pleased.
'Jew, will you fuck off with the fagginess? And just fuck off back under your rock or something? You're dripping fucking water everywhere'
Cartman's favourite talent of breaking up heart-warming moments had never made Stan want to laugh before. And it was true that Kyle was (possibly) unintentionally dripping the filthy pond water all over the blanket Cartman had been sunbathing on and, despite the warm weather, was unable to stop this trickling as he was shivering. Badly.
'Kyle, do-you-want-to-come-over-to-mine-no-one's-in' The words were out of Stan's mouth before he could help himself, but it was too late to take them back and the gleam in Kenny's eye told him he knew that the words had slipped out.
'Yeah Kyle, you should go and catch-up with Stan, me and Cartman have got to... do... that... thing... Right, Cartman?'
Cartman's eyes narrowed.
'I'm not going anywhere with your poor ass, I've got calls to make and shit'
Kenny and Stan shared a sigh, one of annoyance and one of relief, whilst Kyle looked bemused, still shivering in the light wind.
'But Cartman' Kenny spat out through gritted teeth 'You've got that date with Lexus today, remember?'
'Aw sweet! I thought you said she wouldn't date me if I was the last guy in South Park?'
'Cartman. Stop. It. And. Go. Get. Ready. For. Your. Date.'
It seemed like everyone's breath was bated as they watched the clear argument in Eric's head; going would mean he'd get to fuck Lexus, but Stan would be happy. Staying would make Stan, and possibly Kyle, miserable, but he'd be alone for the night.
'Fine, call your ho and tell her to meet me at Shakey's' he muttered, gathering up his things and walking away.
Stan turned to face Kyle once more 'Shall we go then?'
Kyle smiled.
00
'Your room's tidy' was the first thing Kyle had said when they arrived
'Yeah, um, my mom made me tidy it when she heard you were coming back. Y'know, in case you wanted to come 'round or something...' Stan trailed off, running a hand through his hair.
'It looks good.'
'Thanks.'
The atmosphere was suffocating. This wasn't how Stan had pictured their reunion to be; he'd imagined Kyle back to being Kyle, with the sense of humour and the wild ideas, the opinions and the fiery temper. He'd imagined hugs and junk food and playing video games until 3 in the morning whilst Kyle told him funny stories from his time away. Instead, they were on opposite sides of the room, Stan stood in the doorframe with Kyle sat on his bed, playing with his sleeves and looking everywhere but where Stan stood.
'Stan... I think I ought to go home, I told my mom I wouldn't be long' Kyle said, breaking the 5-minute silence.
Stan just watched as Kyle stood up. Watched as Kyle seemed to sway on the spot. Watched as Kyle fell to the floor. His sapphire eyes widened at the memory, the similarities between the moment he was in now, and the moment all those months ago.
Except Kyle wasn't just lying still this time and his face had filled, rather than drained, with colour but as he started to stand back up, the set of his mouth made Stan think that just maybe, the redhead was angry, rather than embarrassed.
'Stan.' There was more fury in that one word than in everything Kyle had said that year combined 'There are bottles under your bed.'
It was Stan's turn to flush.
'I thought you'd stopped.' Kyle's words were clipped and harsh to his ears 'What happened?'
The emotions that he'd hidden for months intensified as he looked at the unfamiliar fire dancing in Kyle's eyes, all the fear, anger, misery and self-hatred burst forth in two words;
'You left!'
The silence was deafening as Kyle lowered himself back onto Stan's bed, but Stan wasn't searching for ways to fill it any more, his words were buzzing in his mind, just waiting to explode out
'You left, Kyle. I know you needed to. Fuck, I know that if you HADN'T gone, you'd probably be dead. But shit dude, what was I supposed to do? My best friend – my fucking super best friend – was a skeleton, Kenny was fucking anything within a 20 mile radius, and Cartman was... Well, I don't really give a crap about Cartman, but he was giving you the stuff! You were taking those pills like they were candy, and you didn't care anymore! I had Ike calling me nearly every night because he didn't know where the fuck you were and your mom was starting to get suspicious. But who cared? Not you! You left me Kyle. Look at my dad, look at the influence I've had! Did you really expect me to just ignore the numbness that comes free at the end of every bottle, every can, every shot?'
Stan was pacing now, his breath escaping in huffs as he got more and more worked up
'Stan, I'm sorry, I didn't realis-'
'Of course you didn't realise! No one did! Not you, not my family, not even fucking Wendy! I was holding you three up, and no one thought to ask if I could use a hand. No one ever expects the quarterback with the perfect girlfriend and the fucking ideal life to need help. Guess what though Kyle?! Wendy fucked everyone on the team in "retaliation of what I did". My mom wants to leave again. And still I managed to keep my grades up, keep smiling, keeping winning every single game we played. So go home if you want to. Go, because I can't do this anymore.'
Kyle's eyes were swimming with tears that doused the fire within them as he crossed the room. Stan had saved him from drowning, and it was his turn to do the same thing. Wrapping his short, thin arms around Stan's shoulders, he hugged him tightly, letting all the emotions he possessed seep into his broad chest.
'It'll be okay Stan. It'll be okay, you don't have to be the hero anymore'
Stan broke down even harder at that.
00
There's a photo in my yearbook of a party someone hosted for some reason. I think it was Clyde, I think it was because we beat Middle Park for the third time in a row. That'd explain why it's in the yearbook anyway. I'm in this picture, somewhere in the background, hiding behind a bottle of Jack whilst Wendy screams at me. You know how with some pictures, you look back at them and can't for the life of you remember what was happening? This isn't one of those pictures.
Wendy wasn't screaming at me because I was drunk. She wasn't screaming at me because I'd had her study-buddy sent away. She wasn't screaming at me for saving Kyle's life. She was screaming at me for 5 seconds that I should never have told her about: Kyle's final visit to my room. When, high on hunger and whatever Cartman had slipped him, he kissed me. And I didn't push him away.
It's a stupid photo though, and no-one else will remember the symbolism of her anger in five years. I think.