Title: Third Time is the Charm

Author: Miarae

Summary: It's his last year of high school and Stan thinks an exchange trip would be fun. How do you randomly encounter someone that used to be your best friend? Style.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N:This chapter is dedicated to SomeRandomKyleBroflovskiFanbecause my last chapter made her sad, and Cristya Bladed for writing a story that was dedicated to me!

A/N2: The correct order of letters is Stan (at 7:35), Kyle's (below) and then Stans' reply.


Dear Stan,

Someone told me once how you have to fight for your friends, no matter the cost. Even though I can't agree with her (after all, what is a friendship if one of the two keeps fighting only to sacrifice himself over and over?), she had a point, and one I've always lived my life by. I'll fight for my friends..for those who fight for me in return. Maybe that sounds harsh, but I think that the benefits should always outweigh the costs. What point is there in fighting for something that's not worth it?

And exactly there lies my problem. Because who decides if something is worth it or not? Is it me? Is it you? Maybe it's both...or neither. And if we get the answer, how to go from there? Is a friendship really only salvable when two people are dedicated to it? There are so many problems with that reasoning..because what if we can't fight it in the same way? What if I push and cling, and you hide from me? How would we ever save something if we can't even figure out a way to get past that? And does it require a fair sharing of the fight? Will it go wrong if I fight for 50 percent and you can't match me in that? And even -if- we fought, in the exact same way, with the exact same amount of fighting, does that automatically mean we'll be okay? Or am I messing it up by trying too hard? So many questions, and I know you have the answers to none of them. Still, they are things that bother me...things that I want you to know because I'm trying -so- hard to fix it, to go back to normal. And it's not working, despite or maybe because of my efforts. I am just trying to show you how much you mean to me, and that, to me, you're worth it. But it feels like whatever I do or possibly -could- do, it's never going to be just solved because I want it to. Mom says it takes time, but I want to make everything go back to the way it was. But we can't, can we?

Kyle sighed, running his tongue down his bottom lip as he reread the letter. It was how he felt, but wasn't it a bit too honest? He really didn't have his heart set on hurting Stan, and the letter probably didn't make too much sense in the first place. Just writing it helped, and he toyed with the idea of just burning it now that it had been written.

Running a hand through his auburn curls, he stretched before turning on his computer. It was late at night, and he'd just come back from his job. He'd briefly contemplated going to the skate park afterwards, since it was a Saturday, but had decided to head home in an attempt to get rid of some of his frustration. It'd been almost a week since he'd gotten Kenny's letter, and even though he'd been attempting to write a lot of letters, none had actually been sent out. Neither to the blonde, nor to his childhood best friend. Even e-mails left him gazing at the computer until images came flooding into his mind and he kicked away his chair in frustration.

Tonight promised to be no different, and Kyle went through the motions as he always did. Clicking the mouse with a bored look on his face, though something sparked in his eyes when his e-mail box popped up.

Stan Marsh No subject ‏ 7:35PM 2 KB

His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans, pushing his glasses further back up his nose before putting his hand back on the mouse with a deep breath. His fingers were shaking a little, and it took him two tries to actually click the message.


Stan came home from his job at the animal shelter at seven, jumped into the shower and came out whistling, chuckling at himself as he did an impromptu dance step on his way to his bedroom. He was in a good mood, for the first time in days, and logged onto his computer as he pulled a shirt over his head. He was preparing for a nice and relaxing evening at Cartmans place, as much as a night with the fat bastard could be nice and relaxing. It was the first night that he hadn't thought of Kyle the entire day, though his best friend immediately popped back into his mind as he opened his inbox. Looking at the date, he ran fingers through his wet hair, before hesitantly hitting reply on the last e-mail Kyle sent him, a long time before they even met.

Why he was doing it, he didn't know. Other than the fact that even after all this time, he still missed Kyle. Missed and loved him, and wanted him back. Or at least he wanted what they'd had back, those few e-mails and the feeling of having someone understand exactly what he meant, even if they were just written words.

Kyle,

Happy Hannukah.

Stan

Chewing on his bottom lip, he realized that he really had nothing to add to that, at least nothing that would lead to a nice and casual conversation, instead of heartache and difficult conversations he wasn't sure he was ready for. Hitting send, he jumped up from his chair, fixed his hair with a quick run-through of his hands, gave himself the once-over in the mirror and dashed out the door.

Only to come back drunk, fumbling with the lock at midnight until his father came down the stairs to let him in. Kenny had dropped him off, a surprisingly sober and silent Kenny, who had only patted his back when he'd blurted out that there was no better friend than him. Stumbling up the stairs, he realized that his computer was still on, and since the chair was about half-way towards the bed, he decided to go for a quick stop, and what the hell, a casual checking of his e-mail.

The words sobered him up quickly, as his foggy brain read and reread the words at least ten times, wondering what exactly Kyle meant by those words. It was a short letter, or a long e-mail, depending on how you looked at it, and he bit his nails, wondering what to send back. He wasn't too good with words, that had always been the Jews department.

Dear Kyle,

No, we can't. But we -can- make it better. If you want to. I know now, that's what I want. I want you in my life, and I need you as my best friend. No one understands me the way you do, and even during those times when we didn't talk...I always sensed you. It's like...you know me, you know what I think and how I feel, without even asking me. I don't know where to go from here, like you said, I don't have the answers either. But I do know what I want, and I guess that we can only commit to that. Commit to our friendship, and fight in the best way we know how to. It isn't going to be easy. I do hide, and I've been doing it for so long that it's hard to change. I am willing to try, but no matter how you twist it, it's going to take time. Maybe a lot of time. But I know one thing Kyle...

I need you.