Warnings for this chapter: violence, handcuffing/pinning, and underage drinking ;-;
"Staaaaan!" somebody shouted.
"Quarterback is in the house!"
"I missed y'all! Where've you been?"
Stan accidentally felt himself smile. He had not expected such a warm greeting, and he especially had not expected such a great start to a party. His classmates hadn't been kidding when they said this party was going to be huge, this party was massive. For a town with less than four hundred permanent residents, such a mammoth party with a garden variety of faces was a major-league event.
Even the decor was impressive. The lights of the lobby were replaced by color-changing LED light strips that lined the ceiling. Bright beads of color illuminated and dazzled across the floor to shine the way down the lobby to the front room, where the couches were already harboring Frenching couples. The grandiose chandelier that hung over the hotel lobby was dressed in vibrant streamers and toilet paper rolls, and twinkled under the strobe lights.
But somehow, even with all of this, this party was far from intimidating. The environment was familiar. It didn't feel like it was too much to take in, it honestly felt analeptic.
"Hey, everyone," Stan said, offering a salute to his football teammates.
He felt himself loosen up as he was greeted, but he didn't feel comfortable, not after everything that happened back in the parking lot. He was relaxed, but he was vigilant. He wasn't going to let his comfort distract him from looking out for Kyle, who by the way, was experiencing a slight sense of culture shock.
Kyle stared at everything with an unadulterated surprise.
Kenny nudged him with his elbow, "Whatcha think, Kylie-B?
Kyle just raised his eyebrows, "It's a lot, isn't it?"
"Yeah, I gotta admit," Kenny laughed, "This is pretty big, even for me. Excited?"
"Oh yeah," Kyle grinned, wrinkling his nose in the strobe lights.
"Let's go get some drinks!" Kenny cheered.
"Do we have to?"
"It's the right way to start a party, isn't it, Stan?"
The quarterback bit the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from answering.
He agreed with Kenny one hundred and ten percent. Drinks were his favorite part of any social gathering. When drinks were on the table, his mind cleared and his throat burned wonderfully. Not even hot girls or games with friends could surpass the cathartic release that came with drinking.
But the idea of having Kyle drink with him was off-putting, which was strange, because they have drunk together before. Kyle wasn't the chaste princess that Stan sometimes made him out to be; they had shared a few drinks together in the past. Maybe it was because of everything they had been through within the past few days, but for some great reason unknown, Stan hated the idea of Kyle drinking tonight.
Without waiting for Stan's response, Kenny led both him and Kyle to the hotel kitchen, where the party hostess herself was playing bartender behind a counter.
"Boys!" Bebe Stevens cheered at their arrival, her voice permanently raspy and scratchy from smoking too much as a pre-teen. Her curly blonde hair was wild, almost exploding from the sides of her head in volume. She even tied colored tinsel strips from her roots, so her hair glimmered as she bounced around.
"Thanks for showing up, we needed a little life at the party," she smiled, passing off a red solo cup to some girl at her hip.
"Whatcha talking about, Bebe?" Kenny grinned, "This party has more life than I've ever seen, and it just started!"
"Thank you! Having fun?"
"Yes, ma'am. Would you mind terribly if I asked for a drink?"
"Not at all, that's why I'm here," Bebe got to work, addressing Stan as she did, "So mister quarterback, thanks for setting up the party with me and the girls. We couldn't've done it without you."
"Oh, I'm sure you could have," Stan played it off.
"Nah. Hate to break it to you, but we ladies ain't six feet tall and two hundred pounds of solid muscle. You did all the hard work."
"Not really. I just unloaded stuff. The zip-ties did all the real work. They held everything in place 'til we got here."
Bebe finished Kenny's drink and turned to Stan, "Anything for you?"
Stan shrugged, "You know what I like."
Bebe nodded and fixed him a standard rum and coke, "Didja return Leslie's keys?"
Stan stalled, "What? Leslie's keys?"
"You borrowed her van for the equipment, 'member?"
"Oh, that was her van? I didn't know who the owner was," Stan shrugged, taking the red solo cup when it was ready, "No. Still got the keys in my pocket. When I find her I'll give 'em back."
Kyle perked up now. He leaned forward on the counter, "Did you say Leslie? Leslie Meyers? Is she here?"
Bebe had to do a double take. She then guffawed and laughed, her hair bouncing with her movement, "Oh my God, Kyle! I didn't recognize that was you! I've never seen you wear blue before!"
Kyle smiled, "It's Butters' coat."
"I'm happy to see you, I didn't think you'd come, my dude! You've never come to my parties before. What changed your mind tonight?"
Kyle shrugged, "I wanted to get out of the house."
Stan went still at that line, his cup halted in front of his lips. For some reason, Kyle's words really landed with him.
He swore that Kyle told him earlier that he wanted to come to the party just to meet some girls. Technically it made sense if Kyle wanted to keep that secret from Bebe, certainly Stan could concede that.
But just the somber way Kyle said it, along with the unreadable look in his eyes made Stan believe that it was something more than that.
But Bebe didn't seem to notice at all. She ran her tongue along her teeth and said, "Yeah, dude, I get it. It's good to see you without crutches, too! Can I get you anything?"
"He's not drinking," Stan cut in.
Bebe pulled a face.
"He can drink if he wants to. It's his body, he can feed it what he wants," Kenny said while sucking on an ice cube.
"Well? Whatcha want, Kyle?"
He looked embarrassed when he asked, "Juice?"
"Sure thing," Bebe smiled and went to the fridge.
"Don't spike it," Stan called after her.
She snorted, her brown eyes laden with vicious sarcasm, "Right. Sure. No spiking. Got it."
"No, I'm serious. Don't spike it. He-"
"-Actually Bebe, Stan's right," Kyle cut in, "I, um, I got sick over the weekend. I can't really have anything alcoholic."
"Oh, that's right!" Bebe clapped a hand to her forehead, "Sorry! I remember hearing rumors, but I didn't know they were true. Plus, I remember you're diabetic, right? Whoopsie daisy. Sorry. Do you want, like, a virgin drink? I make a mean virgin piña colada. Deadass. Like, the best virgin piña colada in town."
"No thanks. Straight juice is probably what my glucose needs."
"Right right right. Sorry. Be right back," Bebe said before disappearing around the corner to the fridge.
Kenny had been watching the entire scene with speculated eyes. When Bebe was out of earshot, he set his drink aside and asked Kyle, "You're telling the truth, right, Kylie-B? You're not just saying that for Stan's sake?"
Stan bristled.
Kyle looked startled, "No, yeah. I'm telling the truth. After DKA, one drink could probably land me in the hospital."
Kenny's studying gaze didn't break. He was going cold fish again, his contemplating blue eyes thinking up storms as he scrutinized the both of them. But he didn't say anything more. He just took another shot of his drink.
When Bebe returned, Kenny spit over the counter, "I don't like this drink anymore. Can I have something else?"
"Chill out, Ken," Stan hissed.
"It's no biggie. We actually got drinks to spare," Bebe explained, "I owe that to the other schoolkids for bringing in so much. I'm so glad they all decided to come! I was honestly worried 'cause of COVID that they would all stay home, but it turns out that they're just as stupid as the rest of us and decided it was fine to break social distancing rules."
She winked, "What can I get you, Ken Doll?"
"Something lemony."
If Kenny was aware of the innuendo he made, he didn't show it at all. Stan honestly couldn't tell if Kenny purposefully played it off, or if he just had no idea he made a sex joke.
"Oh, speaking of COVID," Stan cut in now, turning to Kyle on his right, "I remember reading from the diabetic pamphlets that your immune system's gonna be pretty jacked up for a few weeks. You should stay far away from everyone you don't recognize."
Bebe spoke as she was mixing a drink, "You're pretty protective, aren't you?"
"I'm just saying," Stan sighed tersely, "We don't know where they've been. We don't know what they've been exposed to. If any one of them has the virus and touches Kyle, he could be at serious risk."
"Like any teenagers in a mountain town in the middle of nowhere with no contact to the rest of the world have the fucking virus."
"Shut up, Bebe. I'm serious. It's dangerous. … We shouldn't have come," he turned to Kyle, "Let's leave now."
Bebe's eyes were wide, "I've never seen you so uptight at a party before, Stan. Everything okay?"
"Kyle, let's leave."
"But we just got here," Kyle protested,"I don't want to go home just yet."
"Kyle, listen to me, you have to-"
"-No, you don't understand," Kyle put his hand on Stan's knee and squeezed, "I don't want to go home right now. Please."
Stan was more than apprehensive at this point; he was overwrought with uneasiness. Both Kenny and Bebe were exchanging worried glances, the silence of the kitchen tormenting the moment.
Now he was absolutely certain about his prediction earlier; there was some alternative reason for Kyle wanting to go to this party, and Stan could already tell that he wouldn't like it.
There was only one thing that Stan was absolutely sure of, and that was that this was not the right time or place to discuss whatever that reason may be. There were too many people, Kenny was still watching him like a hawk, and poor Kyle just wanted to have fun for Christ's sake. So Stan just cleared his throat and ordered another drink.
After staying a while longer, passing stories, and thanking Bebe for the drinks, Stan, Kenny, and Kyle went adventuring through the hotel. A second later they found themselves in the billiard room playing pool with a couple of guys from school.
Stan had never played pool before and he was almost drunk, so he wasn't winning at all. (At least, he was pretty sure he wasn't winning. He didn't know any of the rules of the game, so he could have been winning for all he knows.) Meanwhile Kyle was beating everyone, and Stan was overwhelmingly proud of him.
Kenny was there, too, but he wasn't playing. He just sat on a couch and watched wordlessly. (He actually might have been asleep with his eyes open; it was hard to tell.)
As much as Stan really wanted to just let Kyle have this, to just let him laugh, and have fun, and show off his pool skills to the other guys, something prevented him from truly letting go. Maybe it was because of the alcohol, maybe it was because of his anxiety, or maybe it was even a combination of both, but for whatever reason it was, halfway through the game, Stan threw an arm over Kyle's shoulders and asked:
"Kyle, why don't you want to go home?"
Kenny raised his head from the couch now, proving that he was, in fact, actually awake. He paid no mind to Stan whatsoever, and directed all of his attention to Kyle, who was essentially unaffected by Stan's question. He just held on to the pool cue lined up on the table.
"My parents are having a conversation with Ike tonight," Kyle said, his concentration zeroed-in on the game.
"Ike?" Stan snarled, "The fuck does that Canadian want?"
"It's the reason he couldn't come to the party tonight," Kyle explained, "He wanted to come. He just needed to talk to my parents about something."
"About what?" Stan asked, his arm still slung around Kyle's shoulders as they stood together by the pool table.
He could feel Kyle's body tense up under his arm when he admitted, "I- um. I don't really know. It just sounded serious, and I just didn't want to be there for it."
"Nothing else? No other reason why you didn't want to be home?"
"Well-" Kyle's shoulders were now as tight as a drum, "-M-My house has just been kind of tense lately. Since I got back from- you know. Laramie."
Stan wanted to incline further, but Kyle went on:
"But I also just wanted to have some fun with my friends, you know?" Kyle forced a smile, "I wanted to get out, have a good time. And like I said, hopefully meet a special someone."
The guys at the pool table hooted at that, some of them even winking. From the couch, Kenny seemed to enjoy it, too, he was smiling with his eyes.
But Stan just frowned.
As with all good parties, there were several phases that passed over time. There were card games followed by hyped dancing, then kissing games followed by sexual dancing, then drinking games followed by rave dancing.
Stan, Kyle, and Kenny were able to stay awake for it all, even Kyle who had gone days without sleep and even Stan, who had consumed way too much alcohol for his own good at this point. Kenny was having a great time like he always does, but still managed to keep a close eye on Kyle. Stan was only getting more and more anxious as the night drew on, and it didn't help that he was starting to feel buzzed.
And much to his surprise, and slight satisfaction, Kyle actually seemed to be having fun.
It was strange. He had to admit that Kyle looked the most like himself than he has all week. There was a fire burning in his jade-colored eyes that inflamed his entire body with excitation.
What was really strange was how Kyle somehow managed to still look great, even while dressed in Butters' blue coat. Butters and Kyle shared the same slender frame, so it fit him well. But Butters must have been a bit taller, because a bit of the fabric still hung over Kyle's pants by a few inches, managing to cover the majority of his ass well enough.
Stan decided that he made the right choice by having Kyle wear a coat. He might not have been able to prevent him from coming to the party, but at least he could forestall any sort of ogles Kyle might have picked up; it was a repulsive thought that Stan had crawling around in the back of his mind, but it could have become reality had he not done anything.
His decision about the coat was especially helpful considering that the slow dancing was now beginning.
The lights dimmed and the music slowed, people gathering in pairs of two to dance together on the floor of the lobby. Half of the partygoers were wasted at this point, but everyone still managed to quiet themselves and gather for the congregation.
"You gonna go find Nichole or what?" Kenny asked, nudging Stan.
Stan just stared, "Nichole?"
"You owe her a dance."
"I do?"
"Yeah. That's the whole reason why you decided to come in the first place."
"Why?"
"'cause she gave Kyle her soup."
"So I have to dance with her?"
"Yeah? Don't you remember?"
"No?" Stan exclaimed dubiously.
Kenny looked him up and down and sighed, "You really need to stop drinking, dude. You're only seventeen and you act like your old man when he was an alcoholic."
"'m not an alcoholic," Stan muttered, wiping his mouth. He was sure that he was never fitfully drunk in the first place. Stan drank tonight, yes, but he didn't get drunk. He didn't want to risk anything now that he had to look out for Kyle.
Kyle.
Where was Kyle?
It was just now that Stan realized that Kyle was not at his side.
He felt a flash of panic, grabbing Kenny by the scruff of his shirt, "Dude! Where the fuck is Kyle?! Wasn't he just right here?!"
"Ssh!" Kenny hissed.
He tore Stan's hands off of him and pointed across the dance floor and whispered, "He's just over there. Pipe down. People are trying to make memories here."
Stan looked to where Kenny pointed and something stirred in his heart. He couldn't tell if the sight was endearing or discouraging, but whatever emotion he felt while taking it in, the feeling was oppressing.
Over on the far side of the dance floor, Kyle was slow dancing with none other than Leslie Meyers, her hands on his shoulders and his around her waist. They were laughing, both of them, as they softly spoke to each other beneath the music, waltzing in tune with the beat.
"Isn't that adorable?" Kenny asked, nudging Stan's elbow, "Look at 'em."
The more Stan looked, he could see that Leslie was actually only touching Kyle with one arm. Her other arm was bandaged up in a sling across her chest, a prominent surgical band-aid at the left side of her forehead.
"Oh," Stan's voice caught in his throat, "The bus accident..."
"You got to admit, that's fucking adorable," Kenny took a sip of his drink, "One of 'em in a boot, the other in a sling. Come on. Don't stand there and tell me that's not the fucking cutest thing you'd ever seen in your goddamn life."
Stan watched as Kyle and Leslie danced past him, neither of them even remotely aware of his presence.
"I didn't know Kyle had a thing for Leslie," Stan confessed, and he unexpectedly found himself feeling guilty.
Kenny shrugged, "I don't think they have a thing for each other. I'm pretty sure they're just good friends. Or at least, they used to be."
"Used to be?"
"Don't you remember fourth grade? They were close for a while, and actually became pretty good friends. They used to play computer games all the time."
"Didn't she, like, betray him for Jimmy or something? It's been such a long time, I don't even remember the story."
"There was an altercation," Kenny shrugged, "But they got over it. She's not evil. I mean, fucking look at her. She's wearing a yellow headband. How can you be evil and wear a yellow headband? You can't. It's impossible."
By a fluke Stan found himself chuckling a bit. He took a swig of his drink and asked, "So what happened then? Why'd they stop being friends?"
"I guess over the years, Kyle just stopped making time for people besides you, and occasionally me and Cartman."
"What, really?"
"Yeah, really. You didn't notice?" Kenny stared incredulously, "Like, remember David Rodriguez? They were friends, too, I think. Kyle just broke contact with everyone after a while."
"Oh."
He watched Kyle and Leslie dance with each other. They really did look like friends and nothing more, based solely off of the respectful way they touched each other and the camaraderie they had when they looked in each other's eyes. Something about this entire instance, their whole friendship, was heartbreaking on a deeper level, and Stan couldn't understand why.
"It's kind of hard to accept that she was the closest thing Kyle had to a friend when he was hit by that bus," Stan said, his throat dry and scratchy.
"Dude, he's allowed to have friends. Let him go."
"I know, but, still. It's just hard that-"
"-Let him go," Kenny gave his arm a rough pat, "It'll be okay. He's having fun."
After Kenny's words, the first song ended and a few people changed dance partners. Kyle and Leslie laughed at each other and disappeared to go get some snacks, moving far out of Stan's line of vision. He made a move to follow them, but he felt a pull on his hand.
Nichole Daniels was tugging at his wrist, staring at him expectantly, "Hello? You owe me a dance, remember?"
Stan looked to Kenny, wordlessly begging for an intervention, but Kenny just raised his arms in the air and backed away.
Stan responded by pulling a face at him, and then did his best to be cordial with Nichole when he said; "Look, I'd love to, but I have to go look out for my friend right now, he-"
"-Just one dance, Stan, you owe me," Nichole solicited, her alluring dark eyes wide with amity.
Stan looked to Kenny again, hoping for at least some kind of word in his defense, but Kenny just shrugged.
He sighed, "Sure. Just one."
Nichole stalled for a moment. Stan could see that she was slightly hurt by his pithy attitude. But Stan knew her well enough to know that Nichole was not one to wear her heart on her sleeves.
She proved this by nodding curtly, and then taking charge by directing Stan to the dance floor.
When she put her arms around him for the slow dance, Stan couldn't help but feel a little ashamed of how he was treating her. They were good enough friends, they had been since childhood, and she was really a dear. All she wanted was a dance, when meanwhile Stan was brushing her off like she was a pest.
His anxiety was through the roof about Kyle, that was something he would not deny. But Kenny kept assuring him that everything was okay, that Leslie was okay, that Kyle would be okay, and Stan just couldn't accept it. There was too much going on, too much for him to process, for him to be able to "let go."
While he certainly owed it to Nichole to give her a sterling dance, he couldn't dismiss that awful feeling in the back of his mind that something about this whole party was dreadfully wrong.
"You look great, Stan," Nichole said, her bracelets clinking against Stan's arms as they moved.
Stan was broken from his thoughts, "I do?"
He looked down to realize he was wearing a standard t-shirt, jeans, and three-year-old athletic shoes covered in dirt.
On the other hand, Nichole was stunning. She was dressed in an orange tube top that brought out her assets, and long bell bottom pants that gave her elegant curves. She was bedazzled in jewelry and wore glitter on her face and in her hair.
Stan bit his lip, "Sorry. I probably look like a slob next to you. You look good, Nichole."
"You don't look like a slob," she smiled, "Not really. I only ever see you wear a coat or your football jersey in school, so this outfit technically does shake it up a bit."
Stan sadly chuckled, "So what kind of bet did you lose to have to ask me to dance?"
"Humble much?" she joshed, "No bet, Stan. You're actually quite a catch, believe it or not."
"I'll not believe it, then," Stan smiled. He was catching a feel for the music now, and started to move in rhythm, his hands placed along Nichole's bare waist.
"You know, you're 'quite a catch,' too, Nichole," Stan started, dancing in time with the beat, "I'm surprised no knight in shining armor has asked you out this year."
"I've had a few boyfriends on and off," she shrugged, "None of them really worked out. I haven't really had bad breakups, it's just something like we lose interest or we're too different, you know?"
"I think so."
"What about you?" she looked at him endearingly, her glittery eyeshadow making her look striking, "Breakups? Dates? Anything?"
"I haven't really dated since middle school, to be honest."
"But you have so much to offer. How come?"
"Oh, well, I don't know."
"Sure you do. Come on. How come?"
Just beyond Nichole's shoulder, Stan was able to just barely make out the sight of Kyle returning to the dance floor, this time with someone who wasn't Leslie. This time, he didn't even return with a girl. Kyle took to the dance floor with a boy, one a lot taller and sturdier than him, both of them arm in arm as they started dancing.
Nichole must have realized Stan was staring, because she turned over her shoulder to find what he was looking at.
She smiled lightly, "Oh. That's why. Kyle Broflovski, huh?"
"I'm sorry, what?" Stan haphazardly asked.
"Do you have a thing for Kyle?" she asked, a mysterious glint in her dark eyes.
"Thing?"
"Do you love him?"
Stan swallowed, "...Not in the way you're assuming. Like I'm not-... We don't- I don't love him like that, there's just- There are a lot of-"
"-Hey, it's okay, I get it," she smiled. She leaned into the dancing, resting her head against Stan's neck as she swayed in his arms, "You guys are just entirely too good at being friends. You're too close to each other to be in love."
Even with her tender embrace absorbing him, Stan's awareness was still completely alienated from her. He might have forgotten he was dancing with her at all, he was only watching his super best friend dancing with this boy. Something about their trip-in-the-light-fantastic was not at all fantastic, it was quaint and disturbing on a personal level.
"Does that make sense, Stan? Don't let me put words in your mouth or anything, but that's what I've always thought when I think of you guys. You're just too close to really love each other."
It was just now that Stan realized with unadulterated horror that Kyle was not dancing with someone he recognized. He was slow dancing with someone from a different school, someone from out of town. He was chest to chest, hand in hand, and noses barely two inches apart from someone who could very well make him dangerously sick.
"You know, when I first moved here, Kyle was my first crush," Nichole drew on in the background, "I should have realized he was something special by the way Cartman prevented me from asking him out. This was before I even met you, and before I even saw you and Kyle together, when you-"
"-Nichole, I'm sorry," Stan said aimlessly, his stare on his super best friend impossible to break.
She tilted her head to the side, her long hoop earrings dangling, "Sorry for what?"
"I- I can't-... I can't do this right now."
"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," she assured softly. She moved her arms up higher on Stan's shoulders, "I'm not asking you out or anything, Stan. We can just enjoy the night. We can just have some fun. I like you, okay? I want us to have fun together."
"No… No, no, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I can't, okay? I can't."
"Stan, are you alright? You look really flushed. Did you drink too much?"
"Nichole..."
"Do you need to sit down? You're not looking so good."
"Nichole, stop it. I can't."
"Why aren't you looking at me?"
Just beyond her shoulder, Stan witnessed a sight so disturbing he knew right then and there it would reign in his nightmares for years to come.
The boy leaned down and kissed Kyle fondly, his arms locking him in the embrace, the two of them still swaying to the beat of the music together.
That moment was Stan's match in the powder barrel.
Completely disregarding Nichole, he pried himself from her arms and bolted to the other side of the dance floor. He may have had to shove a few couples out of the way, but he couldn't tell, his focus was solely set on getting there as soon as possible.
Enraged and quelled by pulsing adrenaline, Stan bludgeoned a punch right across the boy's face, sending him careening backward.
Kyle shrieked, and so did many dancers around him but Stan couldn't afford to pay any mind to them, not when this guy was still standing.
"Fuck you!" Stan cried, hammering into his face again.
The guy was about Stan's height and weight, and was even just as muscular, but he barely looked ready to press an attack. He staggered back and forth on his feet, his hand covering his nose as blood leaked out of it, dripping onto the floor.
The gruesome sight didn't disturb Stan at all. He just lashed out again. He barraged the guy even more by railing him with punch, after punch, after punch, after punch, the girls around him screaming and crying.
Just as he was about to deliver another blow, he felt a pair of hands grab onto his fist and pull it back.
Stan didn't bother to see who it was. He just sent a low sweeping kick behind him and went on attacking the guy again. There came a point when Stan delivered so many bone-crushing punches that he could no longer see the boy's face, it was so malformed and bloody that it was unrecognizable.
Only then did Stan take the time to turn around and see who he had kicked back.
The party crowd was circled around them, but they weren't there for entertainment. They stared with turbulent fear and anger, some of them holding each other in support. Just at the lip of the circle, Kyle stood in throe, his arms wrapped around his abdomen, while Kenny was there by his side.
"What happened to-?" Stan was out of breath, "What happened to Kyle? Kyle, why are you hurt?"
Kenny stared at him fiercely, his blue eyes piercing with wildness, and Kyle looked just as upset.
"Stan, why did you do that?!" Kyle cried, tremoring all the while. He winced at a visible pain at his side, but he had a testy fire in his eyes that persisted beyond, "He only kissed me!"
"Kyle, he-... Exposure could put you in the hospital, you- you understand that-... Kyle, he can't touch you like that!" Stan spat out, still breathing ruggedly.
The bloodied boy shakily sat up from the ground, hissing and wincing as he wiped at his nose, the action sucking in the attention of everyone in the room.
"Kenny," Kyle whimpered promptly, "Go make sure he's okay. I gotta get Stan out of here."
"Not a good idea," Kenny seethed, "He already fucking kicked you, I'm not gonna let the two of you go out together and-"
"-He's just gonna hit the guy again until his face is broken. We both know that."
"Fair point, but I don't like the idea of you two going off and-"
"-Kenny, we're just wasting time 'til he strikes again. He's going to blow any moment now."
Without waiting for what Kenny had to say in response, Kyle raised his voice now, addressing Stan, "Hey, Stan? You wanted to leave the party, right? Well, I'm ready to leave. Right now."
Stan wavered unsteadily on his feet. He was dangerously ready to attack the boy again, the adrenaline was pulsing and throbbing in his veins, and his breathing was sharp and quick.
At Kyle's words, he felt himself lower his fists, but not his guard.
"Kyle, are you sure? I thought you didn't want to go home," he asked. He had meant for his tone to be soft and gentle, but instead it came out coarsely. There was so much gravel in his voice it sounded like he had been screaming for hours on end.
"We don't have to go home," Kyle pleaded, hysteria rising in his tone, "We can go anywhere. I just want to leave this hotel. Please."
"Okay… Let's leave."
"Okay," Kyle looked like he wanted to cry. He indicated the bloodied kid on the floor, "Ken, go take care of him."
Kenny was mortified, Stan could see that even from a distance. But he made like a dog and did what he was told, keeping his head low as he went to attend that barely conscious sap. He shot Stan a nasty glare of warning as he passed by his shoulder, one that managed to shake Stan to the core.
But Stan did his best to remain unaffected, "Come on, Kyle. Let's leave this hotel."
The crowd parted like the red sea with every step Stan took forward, backing away and skirting around him. Stan took Kyle by the arm and led him out of the hotel, some nervous girl holding the front door open for them as they left.
When they were outside on the sidewalk, completely alone besides each other, Kyle finally broke down.
He fell to his knees, covering his mouth and shaking on the ground as he released an ear-piercing sob that was so loud it could have woken the dead.
Stan was there at his side in an instant, "Oh my god, Kyle! Oh my god, are you okay?! Kyle, what's wrong?! Are you hurt, what happened?!"
"S-Stan you- You can't just-" Kyle was snivelling and blubbering as he covered his mouth, "You can't do things like that! You can't fucking do things like that!"
"He was endangering you," Stan explained as composedly as he could. He felt like his anger was about to flare up at any second, but he could see that Kyle was terribly distressed so he forced himself to be sedative, "Your immune system is not strong enough to handle anything foreign, Kyle. He was posing a threat to your health."
"He was only from North Park High!"
"That's still two hours away from this hell hole, who knows what he was exposed to out there?"
"He was being ni-nice to me! You can't just do that! W-What if you broke his nose or something?!"
"He was disrespecting you," Stan said, feeling his rage accidentally slip into his tone, "He was touching you and showing you off like you were nothing more than his arm candy. I'm not going to ignore the elephant in the room, he kissed you. He didn't even ask before he did. He didn't have your consent."
"B-But he did though..."
"No, he didn't," Stan decided, "No, he didn't."
"Let's just leave," Kyle cried, tears breaking free. He tore his hand away from his mouth, a delicate strand of saliva haphazardly dripping from his face as he convulsed, "Let's just leave now, before anything worse happens…"
"Kyle, I'm not gonna let anything bad happen to you. The worst is already over."
"Yeah, b-b-but we're not staying here, we're leaving! You said we could leave!"
"You said you wanted to get outside of that hotel, and you got what you wanted," Stan explained carefully, "I'm gonna go back inside. I need to finish giving that asshole hell before we actually leave."
Kyle dissolved into terrified tears, "What? No! No, Stan, hold on. Hold on, Stan, you can't go back in!"
"Just stay right here, you'll be fine," Stan said, rising from the ground.
Kyle tugged at the leg of his jeans, "Stan, listen to me!"
"No, stay here," Stan shook him off and started for the front door.
Kyle stepped in front of him, using his body as a barricade against the door, "No, Stan!"
"Kyle, please. Don't be difficult."
Kyle was bawling at this point, a fiery defiance in his eyes still shining above all the tears, "He doesn't deserve violence! You need to stop, Stan!"
"Who's going to stop me?"
"Stan-!"
"-I'm serious. Who's going to stop me from avenging my super best friend?"
"I am!"
"..."
"..."
"..."
Kyle blanched, "Why do you look so serious…?"
In one seamless gesture, Stan snagged Kyle by the shoulders and tore him away from the doors. He moved so quickly that Kyle had little time to retaliate when Stan started pulling him down the parking lot, paying no heed to his protests.
"Stan! Wait, hold on! L-Let's talk about this! Stan!" Kyle shrieked, fighting with every ounce of strength his feeble body could muster. Kyle kicked and screamed, but Stan prevailed his hold, dragging him across the lot with unsullied tenacity.
Even when he reached the van, Stan's firmness didn't stall. He pressed Kyle down against the back of the van until he was completely pinned.
Stan unlocked the van and reached inside, digging through the pile of unused zip-ties left in the back.
Kyle's eyes widened at the sight, "Oh, fuck."
Stan just blinked, "What?"
Kyle trembled and choked under Stan's arm.
He shook his head repeatedly, almost obsessively, as he whimpered, "Y-You don't have to use those..."
"If it's gonna keep you away from the party and allow me to go earn the justice that you rightfully deserve, then hell yes I have to use these," Stan explained, "Now, hold still."
Kyle went deathly silent when Stan used the zip-ties to lock him to the van, his hands leaving red blood marks along Kyle's skin. He used six in total, two per each wrist and two tying each wrist together around the door handle. Kyle watched Stan work with his eyes wide, a few tears still slipping down his cheeks, his jaw clenched tightly.
When Stan was done, he forced a smile in an effort to alleviate him, "See? 's not so bad, right? Right. I'm gonna go inside now, okay? I'll be right back. I won't be gone long at all."
He gave an innocent wave before trotting back inside the hotel.
Just like the first time he entered the party that night, his first impression was not expected.
Instead of being flattered and revered the second he walked in like before, everyone did either one of two things: they either bristled defensively at his approach, or ran out the back door after making eye contact for two seconds.
It was because of everyone's strange behavior around him that Stan was not able to get to that North Park jerk at all. The guy had an entourage that protected him, swarming him like a bubble and shielding him from Stan at all costs.
Though Stan couldn't find him anywhere, he had to assume it was Kenny who was behind this. That guy was relentless under pressure.
But so was Stan.
He searched for the North Park kid for two hours straight. He even went as far as checking the pool, the courtyard, and every single room in the hotel. He was searching hours after most of the guests left.
It wasn't until he heard a bird chirp that he realized it was practically morning, and his super best friend was still tied to a van outside.
Stan ran down to the parking lot to free him, but was unexpectedly met with the scare of his life. The van was nowhere to be seen. The van was gone.
Kyle was gone.