A/N: It's another short one, sorry!

January 14, 2017

Kyle could hear generators down the street, not as loudly as Ike's sudden violin playing from across the gap between their two houses. The window panes shook.

"I fucking love you, Kyle. I love you so much," Stan's breath was a staccato, struggling.

"I love you too, Stan."

"I'm sorry I was kind of a dick."

"It's okay," Kyle inhaled deeply, cupping Stan's face, "I'm sorry, too."

"I hope you're not just saying that because I'm fucking you right now."

"No, but it helps," Kyle smiled.

…

Wrapped in blankets and body seemed to ward off the crawling frost on the windows. Kyle laid back with his head tilted toward the ceiling, eyes closed. He could still feel where the tear tracks on his face were, just as they were about to finish.

(dont cry dont cry)

Stan's head was in his lap, bundled up like a satiated kitten. Kyle absentmindedly scratched his scalp and stroked his hair- he could swear he could hear his boyfriend purring.

"Kyle?"

"Yeah, baby?"

He could feel Stan's lips curl into a small smile against his leg.

"I know we couldn't biologically, but do you think we could have kids?"

Kyle's hands stopped, he looked down at Stan, who was staring forward at the wall, deep in thought.

"We are kids."

"Yeah, I know. But I mean, someday."

"Someday is a long ways away, Stan."

"Doesn't mean we can't talk about it."

"I suppose not," Kyle said. He waited for Stan to dive into a long-winded explanation, usually very defensive of his thoughts, but Stan said nothing.

"Well?" Kyle pressed.

"I don't know."

"Then why'd you bring it up?"

"I don't know. Now that I think about, I think I'm scared I might be like my dad."

Kyle laughed, although he suddenly realized he had the same fear "Should I call you Randy Jr.?"

"Fuck no. Please don't."

"Oh, that's not so bad though, you have a good dad," Kyle resumed gently running his fingers through Stan's hair, "And everyone gets traits from their parents that they don't want. Sometimes I open my mouth and my mom comes out."

"You can say that again."

"Hey now-"

Stan turned over and looked up at Kyle, put a hand to his face, "-you're beautiful, by the way. I don't care what comes out of your mouth."

Kyle rolled his eyes, "Stop…"

"You're right though. I shouldn't be scared. I'm me. You're you. And I'm me because you're you and you're you because I'm me."

"...what?"

"I don't know, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just…" Kyle leaned down, wrapped an arm underneath Stan and the other arm over him; brought him up and kissed him squarely on the mouth, "We should probably sleep. It's been a long ass day."

Stan stretched his fingers over Kyle's chest, "Yeah. I'm really tired. I am so so tired."

…

June 13, 2017

2:48 am

Green Converse shoe descending deeply onto the pedal, almost to the floor, down a dark and empty dirt road, windows down, radio shut off. He eyed the passing ditches as they flickered by in his headlights; considered twisting his elbows and veering off, let himself crash into whatever was there, let someone find his bloodied face halfway through the windshield.

Rows of cornfields emerged, surrounded him on both sides and he remembered all the times that fog took over their morning commute and the school bus ambled along with its flashing light on top. That one morning. The one where he held Stan's hand romantically for the first time. He wanted to ask if he could kiss him again. Wished he could look over at the passenger seat and ask him to kiss him now.

Kids, he sped up more, we were just kids.

No one had any idea that the people who embalmed Stan would have to be embalmed soon too. Or cremated. The detective had shoved photos of their bodies in Kyle and Kenny's faces, asked if they smelled anything, asked if they thought all the deaths, theirs and Stan's, were connected.

"I'm sure you suspect Stan," Kyle stated, dryly, impatient, sarcastic.

Kenny had cast a worried glance at him, "What about that one woman we saw? With the… tongue thing?"

"You mean this woman?" The detective gave them another picture of, indeed, that woman, whose face was now bust open, like something was trying to crawl out of her face like a chick from an egg.

Kyle closed his eyes and looked away, shuddered.

"This really sucks, sir," Kenny said, squinting at the detective and the officer standing in the corner, "But we have our own to take care of. We just don't have any information for you. Sorry."

Stan was buried later that day in a harried minute as if he wasn't put in the ground immediately some curse would sway over him and wedge itself into his cold pores; the bells chiming from the nearby church.

As Kyle continued to speed, he pictured again the image of the casket sinking. The temptation to destroy himself gnawed into his heart as an upcoming bridge came into view. He could drive into the water, drown and be at peace. Just end it.

A flashback of Ike almost drowning in mud popped up, severing the fantasy. He slowed down. Ike would miss him if he drove off the bridge now.

He thought of how if the roles were reversed: if it was some alternate universe where it was Kyle being lowered into the earth with Stan watching, he wouldn't want him to be driving around at 3 am contemplating killing himself. He would want Stan to take care of himself, very much how he had wanted him to in this universe, while he was still alive.

Finally, he slowed down and came to a complete stop, stepped out of the Jeep, and walked to the bridge's railing. A wind ran through the forest that lined the river, making the trees look like dark, swaying beasts.

He thought of Kenny, how good he had been to him lately, how like a rock he could be, even though he was feeling the pain of losing Stan too.

Kyle didn't want to make Kenny have to identify his body the way he did for Stan, though it would more than likely be Kyle's parents having to do it and not Kenny, Kenny wouldn't want to see him dead in any form. He felt so weak next to Kenny now, his life tangible, maybe meaningless. One wrong move and Kyle could be gone forever, no Satanic or superhero powers could save him.

Still waters reflected the full moon.

Kyle climbed back into the car and pulled his phone out of the cupholder, paused for a minute, staring at the lock screen of himself, Stan and Sparky before swiping.

3:18 am- Kyle: Hey Kenny… I know that you probably won't see this until you wake up, but I just want you to know that I'm so appreciative of everything you've done for me the past couple of months, and even before then. I remember when you tried to comfort me when I didn't make the all-state team. I remember when you tried to take my books so I could tie my boots. I remember your face when you dragged me out of the shed after that fucking raccoon attack. You said that I don't remember everything, but I remember those moments. I remember a lot. What you do doesn't go unnoticed, and I honestly wish there were more people in the world like you. Thank you… for everything. I don't know what I'd do without you.

He sighed, placed the phone down, ran his hands over his hair, grabbed his keys, and started the ignition. Surprisingly, he heard vibrating coming from the cupholder.

3:21 am- Kenny: I don't know what to say… thank you 3 You really didn't have to say those things but thank you.

I don't know what I'd do without you either.

3:23 am- Kyle: Whoa holy shit I didn't think you'd be up… and well I mean it :) so just take it lol

3:24 am- Kenny: Lol yeah I just kinda randomly woke up, idk why

3:25 am- Kenny: But don't worry, you didn't wake me up or anything, you're gucci

3:26 am- Kyle: Lol okay welp get some slep

3:27 am- Kenny: :)

Kyle wasn't ready to go home just yet.

He drove down to Stark's Pond and walked out on the deck where he and Stan would fish. Taking off his shoes, he thought of his 13th birthday and the jolt of the hook going into his skin.

I guess you could say you... reeled me in, Kyle would joke about it every year.

Stan would frown and shake his head, Stop! I still feel bad about that.

Kyle walked to the edge of the deck, swatting at mosquitos that landed on his arms, and stared into the black water. He couldn't remember how deep it went. It didn't matter.

He turned around, his back to the world, and fell, letting the cold water envelop his body, mask his face. Holding his breath, keeping his eyes closed, he pretended he was his own planet in cold space, warbling sounds of swimming fish like searing stars and the vastness of open water a visceral portal.

(if i cried here)

Eventually, his body floated up to the surface and he crawled out, lied down on the deck, wet clothes seeping into the wood, and stared over the stars.

"Solar Gap" by Hinds - watch?v=Wqx-Mwn6pEg