Kyle was flipping a page in his enormous book of poetry, his eyelids feeling heavy, all his papers graded but one. He glanced to his dainty wrist.
8:17 PM
It blinked.
8:18 PM
He hummed, putting his head down on the intersection of his arms, his curls tossing over each other, brushing his arms and desk. He thought about Eric and what he was making for dinner – he always waited for Kyle to get home before eating. He thought about purple grapes. They were really good. He liked purple grapes. He really wanted purple grapes. He turned his head, his eyes still shut. He wished he had fairy Godparents. He wanted more money, shapeshifting powers and new converse. Although, if he wished for more money, getting new converse probably wouldn't be as much a problem. He then thought it was pointless to wish for money if he could ask his fairy Godparents to just give him whatever he pleased. He imagined himself in a throne with a gaudy, golden crown sitting on his jungle of tangerine curls. He chuckled to himself; that was not what he wanted. He looked to his wrist again.
8:56 PM
His brows turned in; when had all that time passed? He picked up his head, and still, Stanley Marsh sat typing away. He huffed, plopping his pretty face in his palm,
"Stanley Marsh,"
Stan blushed wildly, looking up.
"You have had me sitting here for six hours and forty-one minutes. I think I have given you more than an efficient amount of extra time to complete the project you were meant to begin ten months ago,"
Stanley pulled out his cellphone. Kyle looked down to his phone that lit up. He put it out in front of him, his fingers pushing and pinching until he opened the message,
Text received at: 8:57 PM
From: Dr. S. T. Slim / Asswipe
I just need to finish this paragraph. I promise it will be done soon just give me like ten more mins
Kyle looked up to hopeful eyes glistening, pleading with him. Kyle nodded,
"Fine, fine, no need to puppy-dog eyes, just finish the damn paper by nine-fifteen. That's as late as I'll stay,"
Stan smiled, meaning to thank him, but the judging and terrifying and fanciful and enchanting presence of Kyle Broflovski, the boy he knew he loved now, had crushed his ability to speak. He went back to typing without a word.
"Nothing is perfect, everything is beautiful,"
"I told her that if I dropped dead, you'd be able to continue the lesson."
"Of course; you're my best friend, Kye, my super best friend…I wouldn't change that for the world…"
"Mr. Broflovski…"
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Mr. Broflovski,"
Tock. Tock. Tock.
"…Kyle,"
"Mmm…"
"Kyle,"
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Stan's voice.
Some colors.
His eyes were glazed and the classroom windows let in moonlight. He looked up to Stanley Marsh smiling awkwardly.
"You still talk in your sleep,"
He yawned, extended his arm and wiggled his fingers,
"Your paper,"
Stan frowned; Kyle imagined it must have been because he wasn't up to reminiscing about their lost friendship. Stan handed over the printed masterpiece, announcing,
"I'm sorry I made you stay so late, I didn't mean—"
"Don't mention it,"
Stan swallowed audibly, "Uhm, so, this grade, I mean, I know I haven't kept up with the class for most of the—"
"It could save your grade. You currently have a fifty-eight. You need a sixty-five or higher to pass. This could make or break you, to say. Now go home, I'll see you in class tomorrow,"
Stan seemed immensely disappointed; hung out to dry.
"I…uhm…do you have any post-it's?"
Kyle quirked a brow, sitting up straight, "Yeah, I've got some. How many do you need?"
"Uhm…how many are in a pack?"
Kyle checked one of the drawers, pulling out two packs,
"That's three-hundred of them. Good?"
Stan smiled and nodded, "Yeah, thank you,"
"Yeah. Now, please, let me go home,"
Stan's smile half-faded, nodding again slowly, "Uhm, yeah…alright. Good night, Mr. Broflovski. Thanks for giving me the second chance,"
Kyle met his eyes to Stan's again and the universe played that light trick on them again; where it seemed like the whole world had a black-out except for two lights shining on either one of them. Their irises melded like Earth and ocean, clover and cloud, like Kyle and Stan. Two separate entities that were once one entire, unbreakable, devoted deity, transfixed entirely on loving their counterpart, being their counterpart, completing their counterpart, never being alone from the other. Kyle's heart leapt and his pulse doubled in speed,
"You're welcome, Stanley,"
