Okay, so I really cannot do any of my stupid homework until I finish this story. Damn addiction. This chapter is a little longer than the rest, and I hope thats okay. Definitely let me know if they are getting too long, I get carried away sometimes. So yeah. Here's ze next chapter! Enjoy! Hey, and review? Yeah that would be great : ) I'll once again thank those of you who have. You make me so happy!
Chapter 6- What Happens Next?
Stan's POVA thousand years have passed since Kyle last talked to me. Okay, so maybe only eight days. He's been doing his best to ignore me, and I've been doing my best to respect his wishes. I miss him so much. I don't know what to do! Things are so much worse now between us—I liked it better when I knew I didn't feel this way. At least then, I was ignorant. And ignorance is bliss, right?
My life has changed dramatically in this past week. I know what you're thinking, that nobody can alter his or her life that much in a few hours, but I am here to say that someone can, and that someone is me. Things couldn't get any worse between Kyle and me. I'm so embarrassed to have been so stupid, and not realized that the glazed expression on his face wasn't his sign of love. How could have I been so blind?
Things went from bad to worse two nights ago. I think Kyle was coming into my room to talk to me. Who knows what he was getting ready to do, but perhaps it was to make up so that we could be friends again. I want that more than anything in the world right now.
I had just gotten home from soccer practice, and I didn't think anyone else was home. After discovering I was in love with my best friend, I wanted to see if it was true. If I really was a fag. So I did something unbelievably stupid. I bought a guy-on-guy porn. I mean, I don't know anyone else around here that I could talk to, and I wanted to see for myself if I've just been hiding all these years. Anyway, to make a long story short, Kyle caught me. Just as I was jacking off to the video. Yep. He walked in, I swear with a smile on his face. As soon as he realized what was going on, and what I was watching, he ran away in horror. And the worst part is, I liked it. I actually fucking liked it. Not that Kyle caught me, but what I was watching. I got off to a guy sucking another guy's dick. It made me relive the cursed scene a few nights ago that plays around and around in my head. Never to go away.
I wanted Kyle so bad that night. I've never felt this way in my life! When I was with Wendy, it was different. She was hot, but there wasn't this raw passion in our relationship. Hell, that's probably why she's with Cartman now. And that's why I've been putting up this front about not being with her. The truth is, I don't miss her as much as I thought I did. Kyle is just so amazing. He's been my best friend for so long, I know every part of his existence. I know I could make him so happy…
It takes a toll on a guy when he realizes he's gay and in love with his best friend. I don't know where to go from here.
All I know is that fatass cannot know about this. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know the details of what happened—just that Kyle and I are not on speaking terms. I hope to God Kyle hasn't told him. I don't think he would sell me out like that. But at this point, I wouldn't put anything past him. Dude, Cartman would NEVER let me live that one down.
I'm going out on a date tomorrow night. It's this guy in my sociology class that I guess I've always thought is kind of cute. He was at the party, and imed me to say that he must have missed me. I don't know what it was, but I could tell, even from talking on line, that he liked me. So I asked him if he wanted to hang out tomorrow. I guess technically its not a date, but we'll see. I have to do something to get my mind off of Kyle.
Its funny. I have been gay for like two seconds and already, I have a date lined up. Maybe that's why I didn't make it well with the ladies.
Remarkably enough, I'm not as freaked out about this as I thought I was going to be. The only thing that hurts is that I don't have my best friend to talk to about it all. I've alienated him out of probably EVER wanting to talk about this with me. I'm truly afraid things won't be the same between us again. But that isn't going to stop me from trying.
I've made up my mind. Like I said, it's been eight days. I've never known so long to go without Kyle in my life. When I see him downstairs, he brushes past me, saying a polite 'hi' like I'm a passerby. It's irritating, and as much as I want to forget about it all and make up, I know that's not going to happen. As long as we're living in the same roof, though, I want to be able to feel comfortable around him. As much as possible. So I am going to try my best to apologize to him. I want him in my life, whether or not I can be with him or not. He's just too important to me to completely erase.
I'm standing right outside his bedroom door now. It is mid-afternoon and I KNOW he is in his room doing homework, just like he always does on Sundays. This is my chance.
I nervously knock on the door. I doubt he'll be able to hear me above his music. I don't hear any response, so I'm just going to go up there.
God dammit, I hate how much his door creaks when it opens. You'd think it's trying to give me a sign to stay away. I'm going to ignore that. My legs are shaking as I climb his stairs. Oh God, what if he refuses to talk to me? I can't take no for an answer! I'm nearing the top now…
I turn the corner and peer into a dark, empty room. His computer has an underwater screensaver running, and the stereo in the corner is lightly playing a Sublime song. Beside the couch are his organic chemistry books and a few sheets of blank paper with a pencil, but there is no trace of Kyle. I slowly start to turn the corner when I notice that his bedroom door is open ever so slightly. I saunter over to the heavy wooden door and push it fully open.
There, confined in the shadows, is Kyle, curled up on the bed, his back facing me.
"Go away," I hear him murmur. His voice sounds so fragile—he's been crying.
"Ky, we need to talk."
He grumbles. "I TOLD you never to call me that again." Ky had been a nickname that only I have called him, and up until a few days ago, he never seemed to care. I guess it was too…affectionate?
"Sorry. KYLE," I correct myself. "We need to talk." I take a deep breath, well aware that I could walk away from this more hurt than before. I am willing to take that chance if I can just hear his voice once more.
"There is nothing to talk about," he replies curtly. This is how it's been lately. When I ask him a question, he answers me in the minimal amount of words possible. It's driving me crazy!
"There IS something to talk about," I say through gritted teeth. I'm starting to get annoyed. "You can't just pretend that it didn't happen, because it did!"
He tries to cut me off with something inaudible.
I want so badly to sit down on the bed and hug him to make all of his troubles go away. But being that I am his troubles, I choose to remain close to the door, where I have just walked in. I can't see his face here, and that bothers me.
"Kyle, I'm sorry about what happened. Believe me, you have no idea. But the truth is, you can't erase it from your memory!"
"Yeah, but if I don't talk to you, then I won't have to CONSTANTLY be reminded of it."
Ouch.
"So you want to erase ME from your memory? Is that what you're saying?" I screech through held-back tears. I can't believe what I am hearing!
There is a long silence. "No," is his short reply. Another moment passes and he adds, "I just can't deal with it right now."
Frustrated, I throw my hands up. "Well, God, Kyle, when is it going to be convenient for you TO deal with it? Because you're going to keep putting it off!" I don't care that he is purposely facing away from me; I'm walking over so that I can see his face. "Dude, I can't help how I feel! I'm sorry that it played out that way, but I can't STAND not being able to talk to you!" He didn't even look at me before rolling in the other direction. I am not giving up.
"You are my best friend, Kyle. Without you, I am lost." I realize that probably sounded more like a declaration of love than an apology. "Look, we've dealt with awkward situations before, and we've always pulled through them together! I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you to something so stupid!"
For the first time, I hear him cry. He's trying to muffle it though. Kyle the rock. Putting away his emotions so he doesn't hurt.
"I just want you back as my friend again. Any way I can have you in my life, I'll take." Oh, the water works are flowing freely now. Eight days being a pansy and I'm already feeling the effects. "I just want my best friend back."
I know he can hear me crying. I hope he can hear how heartbroken I am over this whole issue. This visit really has nothing to do with getting him to be mine. As much as I want that, I know its not going to happen. I have to deal with those feelings on my own. No, this is strictly to salvage our friendship. "Kyle, please say something."
"I don't have anything to say to you, Stan," he replies, bluntly.
I sigh. This is getting nowhere.
I am growing angrier at this situation. It feels like he doesn't even want to save our friendship. I know its going to be awkward, but Jesus Christ, give me a fucking break! I'm trying so hard to look past my emotions right now and make things right. And he's laying on his side, away from me, refusing to talk. Those tears probably aren't even for me—he's probably sad about the Geneva situation.
"Dude, you're being such a dick." There, I said it. He needs to know it. "You can at least acknowledge me. I'm STILL Stan. I'm still living in this house, whether you like it or not."
At this, he finally turns around to face me. The room is so dark I cannot make out the expression on his face. But I shudder at his coldness. "Leave me alone, Stan. Give me time to deal with this shit. Time without you." I hear him sniff. "I can't even look at you right now, how do you expect everything to go back to normal?" Ironic. As he said this, he was staring directly at me.
"Kyle, we'll pull through this!" I cry in desperation. Getting him to look at me was a step in the right direction.
Kyle is sitting straight up in his bed, with his hands propping him up. If he were any more motionless, I'd think he was dead. "Tell me one thing."
I smile behind the tears at this hopeful question. "Anything!"
"Do you still like me?"
I pause. What an odd question to ask me. Of course I still like him. I shrug my shoulders to answer 'yes'.
"Do you want to be with me?"
Where is this going? I have be careful. "I know you don't feel the same way."
"That's not what I asked you, Stan. Answer the question."
Damn, he's being persistent. I sigh and throw my hands up. "What difference does it make, Kyle? It's not going to happen, and I've accepted that." In truth, I haven't quite accepted it. I haven't quite realized the gravity of the whole situation. To love someone and not have their love in return. To know that you would never have their love in return.
"It makes a lot of difference, Stan. Tell me. DO YOU want to be with me?"
I let out an exasperated sigh. Yes. Yes I do. More than anything in the entire world, and that is a scary thought. "Not anymore," I lie.
My eyes are adjusting to the darkness in the room, and I just saw his eyes blink. "You mean to tell me, you risked our friendship for one night of pleasure for you?" he mutters. Whoa, how did that get turned around on me? Was there really a correct way I could have answered his question?
"No," I began.
"You mean to tell me, that after all of those years we had together, as close as we were to one another, you were willing to take advantage of me just so you could get some?"
What?
"Stan, what the fuck did you do to me that night? Did you slip something in my water? Did you lace my weed with hallucinogens? Admit to me what you did, you COWARD!"
What the fuck!
"Oh no. No no no no! You can't blame this whole thing on me! I didn't do shit to you, Kyle! You kissed me back! You took off my shirt! You climbed on top of me!" He twitches and presses his eyes together as I bring back the 'painful' memories of that night. I don't give a shit anymore; he's acting like a complete lunatic.
"STOP SAYING THAT! If I knew what the FUCK I was doing, I wouldn't be in there with you in the first place! Something happened, and YOU did something to me!" He is openly crying now. Does he really believe what he is accusing me of? God, I hope not. I pray he is just being irrational. For once, I have to be the one to calm HIM down. I take a deep breath to release my anger.
"Kyle, if that's really what you think about me, then maybe we shouldn't be trying to amend this relationship. I would NEVER do anything to hurt you. I would hope you would know that by now. I care about you too much, dude."
He snorts. "Yeah right."
Grrrrrrrr…
"Yeah it IS right! I fucking love you. And I lied before—I DO want to be with you. I don't want to have some meaningless night with you; I want it be for real. But I know that will never happen, and I'm doing my best to get over it."
He changes tones. Not really into a warmer one. It's still equally as harsh, just…different. "All the girls I've ever liked have all run to you, and you turn out to be a fucking faggot."
THAT'S IT!
"I'm going to leave now," I say in monotone, doing my best to resist the urge to pound him for being such a thoughtless asshole.
"Good," is all I hear in reply.
That went over well.
---
Kyle's POVI wish Stan would leave me alone. I hate being that mean to him, but I honestly can't look at the guy without feeling really uncomfortable and sad. Sad because I know this is messing with our near-perfect relationship. I guess every friendship has its downfalls. Still, I thought I could be cool with this all. And maybe I still will be. I just need time to let it wear off. Or sink in, I'm not sure.
I love the guy so much. I can't help it—I mean, its STAN. And the more I sit around and waste away, the more I really really wish I could return the feeling. It would be so much easier. I'd by lying if I told you I hadn't thought about it. I mean, so what if I don't like guys? I don't think he really does either. You know when you find that one special person in the world and it doesn't matter who they are, where they came from, or what differences you have? I think he may be feeling the effects of that. I understand you, buddy. I just can't let you know I feel this way.
First off, I will not tell Stan that I've been thinking about it, mostly because I don't want to break his heart further if I decide against it. I'm just waiting around, finding out how I feel. Secondly, I'm scared to death about what these feelings might mean…
I know I was just a royal jerk back there. Yeah, you may think that our relationship is damaged beyond repair. But I think Stan will give me a break. I'm going to have to apologize, I already know this. You can't call your best friend a 'fucking faggot' and get away with it. Oh God, I really did just say that, didn't I?
I have such a headache. I need medicine.
I'm going to walk downstairs now. I can't concentrate on my homework. I hope Stan knows what a wreck I've been. I hope he knows I was crying for him. Crying for us. That's saying a lot—I don't cry for anything.
As I reach the bottom of my stairs, I suddenly get this wave of fear washing over me. I hope Stan is either in his room or downstairs. The thought of seeing him after that is too much. Man, I really fucked up.
I push open the door, and peer into the hall. His door is cracked open. I think he is inside.
Good. I'll just whiz right past to the bathroom.
Once I'm safely inside, I rush to the sink and splash some cold water on my face. I look at myself in the mirror. I am a complete wreck. And I look like hell. How can Stan even begin to like me like that? I don't nearly have the looks he has. We'd look so funny together. Him, all pretty boy hot boy, and me…well…I'm just a Jewish nerd.
I run my fingers through my tangled mess of hair and open the medicine cabinet. Inside I find two toothpastes—one Cartman hogs all to himself—some floss, a face wash that Cartman is embarrassed to display, and our medicine. I take a white little bottle out, pop the top, and drop two into my hand.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" I hear a curious voice coming from the hallway. It's Stan. What does he want?
"None of your business," I tell him. Its really not!
"Kyle, why are you taking that?" he asks, concerned.
I decide to be sarcastic. Unfortunately, it probably wasn't the right time to be. "Um, because I have a headache? And this is headache medicine…"
I watch him take a big gulp and look at me strangely. What!
"That's…that's not headache medicine," he tells me cautiously.
"What are you talking about?" I ask him, in all honesty.
He gets this weird look in his eye. Like he's about to disappoint me or something. "A buddy of mine from soccer gave me those a few weeks ago. I brought 'em home, but wasn't sure what to do with them."
I look into his eyes. "Stan, what are they?"
He is looking down at the floor. Avoiding my stare.
"Stan…"
"Ecstasy," he answers, almost in a whisper.
I stare at him blankly, forgetting to blink. Did he just say what I think he said? Now I'm not sure what to think. I know he would never do that shit. "What the hell are you doing with half a bottle of ecstasy, Stan?"
"I swear I wasn't going to use any of it!" he pleas, noticing my intense glare of disapproval.
"Then why didn't you just throw it away?" I ask, irritated. I can't believe my best friend has some X in his possession. "And why the hell did you put it in the medicine cabinet?"
"I don't know!" he yells, flustered. He's a fool, but an honest one at that. Throwing it away probably didn't even cross his mind. Putting it in the medicine cabinet, where we keep all of our medicine, most likely seemed like the best option for him. Why, I don't know.
Just then, I realize something. Something catastrophic. I hit my hand hard against my forehead. THIS bottle was the headache medicine I used that night at the party. I popped two pills of X instead! THAT is why I felt so weird after coming to. Well, that explains a lot…
"Stan, you dumbass!" I scream, roaring with anger. "I TOOK THIS! I took two pills that night…for my headache!"
His eyes grow larger than quarters. He knows exactly what I'm talking about. "HOLY SHIT, DUDE!" he cries out. Probably afraid of what I'm going to him now. I can't hurt him though—he's too stupid to know the stupidity of the situation. And I don't really want to hurt him further. I think he knows now why what happened happened. And so do I. It makes me a feel a lot better that he didn't intentionally do something to me. I didn't honestly think that, but my mind was crazy, searching for answers. Perhaps I think that if I thought that is what truly happened, it would be easier to blame him. When in reality, it was just a bad circumstance all together.
"I am sooo sorry, Ky!" he says, trembling. I'm going to let the fact that he called me that slide. I've never minded when he called me that, but now it just…can't work anymore. It's a pet name, and I am not his pet.
Without another word, Stan vanishes out of my sight. I hear him a few seconds later in the next room. After slamming the door shut, he runs over to his bed and is now crying. The walls aren't too thick. I freeze, the cursed bottle still in my hand. What do I do now? In one swift motion, I walk over to the toilet, and drop the two pills in my hand, along with the entire contents of the unmarked 'medicine' into the bowl. Why the hell would Stan accept ecstasy from someone? Was he not telling me something?
Okay look. I may be a pothead, but I will never go any further than that. All of my friends know that, and I thought all of my friends were the same way. I refuse to try some mind-altering substance that only creates a temporary high before crashing deeper down. Weed doesn't do that to me. It keeps me mellow. I should notice this, because I haven't smoked in awhile. That's probably why I'm on edge. Why I'm being such a dick. Come to think of it, it's probably been like three days. Right now I could really use some calming down. It feels like when I smoke, I see things clearer. I make decisions rationally.
Of course! I'll be able to figure out the Stan dilemma. Figure out what it is I feel. How I should deal with this. My headache has mysteriously vanished, and I walk upstairs with an agenda in mind.
---
Cartman's POVI had sex with Wendy! I had sex with Wendy! I had se-
Knock knock knock.
"Yeah, what is it?" I ask, annoyed that my thoughts have been interrupted.
"Cartman, can I talk to you?" I hear a shy voice speak on the other side of the door. Whoa, its Stan's voice. He hasn't wanted to talk to me since before the party. I guess its cause he and his hippie boyfriend had a fight and they aren't talking to each other. And by not talking to each other, I mean literally only saying a few words when they pass. Its kind of nice—hearing their voices pisses me off anyway.
"Piss off, Stan!" I state, still angry at him for being a douche about the whole Wendy fiasco.
He opens my door anyway. What is it with people and invading my privacy? Damn!
"Cartman. Er, Eric, I mean." Whoa, he just called me Eric. This is serious. Maybe I should at least pretend to be interested. It probably has something to do with him and Kyle. "Can I talk to you?"
"Sure, Stan. What is it?" I say, doing my best fake-care impersonation. "You can tell me anything!" I fucking hate how those guys only come to me when they don't want to talk to each other. Waidaminute. That's never happened! What's going on?
"Look," he starts. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to talk to, or even see, right now. Lord knows you are the last person I have to talk to about this. But Kenny isn't answering his phone, and I really have to talk to someone."
Touché, my friend. Touché.
"Go on," I coax. Where is this heading?
Stan makes his way over to me, sitting down on my bed, uninvited. I decide I won't pound him for it—he looks rather distraught.
"Before I say anything else, I need to apologize to you."
Damn right, you do. "Oh, Stan, whatever for?" I sound sickenly sweet right now, and he can tell.
"Alright look. I know I've been an asshole about Wendy. I'm sorry for that. I thought it was hard to let her go. I think it's just hard for me to realize that she wouldn't want to be with me." He pauses and takes a deep breath, avoiding my eyes. "But I know she is happier with you, and whether I can get used to that or not, you deserve the best, dude."
Wow. Maybe I will listen to him now. "Okay, Stan, what's this all about?" I ask, trying to get to the point of his visit.
"It's Kyle." I knew it. "I can't stand that he's mad at me, but I think I may have royally fucked up this time."
"Why do you think that?" My voice sounds a little more genuine. What? I can be nice sometimes.
He looks at me like he's contemplating what to say next. He's holding back what he'd really say if it were…Kenny…for example. "I don't know how to say this, Cartman, but…I recently discovered that…um…I…" He trails off.
I raise my eyebrows in an attempt to say 'go on'.
"I like Kyle."
WHAT? Hahahahaa! "Excuse me, did I hear you right? Did you say you like Kyle?" Oh man, this is too much!
He's glaring at me now. Probably realizing telling me this is a mistake. I'm sorry, but I could have SWORN those two were fags since the minute I met them. Its funny how often I am right.
"Yes. I like Kyle," he repeats, not understanding how amusing this is for me. No, his hurt is truly touching. Really. But holy crap this is hilarious news! As if that's not enough, he goes on.
"I figured it out at the party. I got really drunk, and I was so upset about you and Wendy, and Kyle calmed me down. I started feeling something I'd never felt before, and before I knew it, I started looking at him differently. We went up to his room to get me to calm down, and I couldn't stand it. When he found that Kenny fucked that Geneva girl, he was mad, he had a headache so he took these pills that he thought were headache medicine when in fact they were ecstasy that this guy gave me at soccer practice that I was never going to use but Kyle took them and he started feeling all horny and I did too and we made out but he really didn't want to and now when I see him he pretends like I don't exist and I'm afraid that our friendship is over."
….
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I tried my best to look concerned. But it was no use. "You two…chuckle…made out?"
Stan growled. "I knew it was a mistake to tell you!"
"No, no. Stan, really. I'd like to help. Now, what's it like kissing faggy little Jew boy?"
Hahaha.
Ouch! He just punched me. "You asshole!" I hear him mutter as he exits my room. I'm left to roll around in laughter at this newfound information.
A few minutes pass, and as I calm down, I start thinking about my Wendy again. It's a far better mental picture than those homos.
---
Kenny's POVLife is so strange, let me tell you. Last weekend, it seemed like I woke up in a completely different house. Sure, it was still trashed, but it was so quiet yet hostile, I felt like I was in the alternate universe. I really hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure Stan and Kyle did…something. The tension between those two in the few hours I stayed before heading home was so thick you could cut it with a meat cleaver. And don't ask me how I know about it. I just know. That's me, I'm Kenny. Kenny knows all.
Except where the fuck Paul had stayed that night. I received an anonymous phone call at 8 in the morning telling me he was okay and passed out in this chic Erin's room. Paul, Paul, Paul, I scold. Bebe won't be too happy to hear about this. Probably best that he's not going to tell her.
The drive home from Denver was pretty gruesome. Paul was still angry with me for the retarded fight that past night, and I was concentrating so intently on the thought of Stan and Kyle being together, I nearly drove us off the road. Don't get me wrong, these guys are my best friends, but damn, they are hot. And the two of them together? I wanted to know what had happened. My imagination caught the best of me, and I ended up locking myself in my bedroom with some porn magazines as soon as I got home.
My name is Kenny McCormick. People know me as the pervert of South Park. The guy who has more sleeping partners than the entire state of Rhode Island. But I swear, there is more to me. I see Stan and Kyle, and I see where they are coming from. I've thought about it before. I don't consider myself gay, but if the personality fit the profile, I might think twice. These boys have been so blind to their love for each other for such a long time, just because they have conformed to society's belief that two best guy buddies can't be more than friends. Yeah, I'm deep. Seriously, it aches me to see them be so close…yet so far apart from each other. Ever since our freshman year of high school, when the two inseparable boys were more content spending Fridays and Saturday nights together alone instead of going to parties with me, I knew something was up.
And it was sweet. Pure, if I can go so far. Although I can't imagine anything resulting from that drunken, anger-laced night being innocent and pure. But they have something special, and they shouldn't ignore it. If I had half the relationship they had together with any kind of a male, I'd be all over him in a second. But then again, I am Kenny McCormick, the pervert of South Park. What do I know?
The reason I bring this up now is because I recently got a call from Kyle. Its Saturday afternoon, and its been exactly two weeks and one day since whatever may or may not have happened…happened. He tells me that he is going to drive down to see me—he needs to talk to me. Kyle knows that I'm willing to listen, just give me the chance. I have to work today, unfortunately, but tomorrow I am free. He has refused to stay another night at school, and he called me about five minutes ago to let me know that he's coming home tonight, and needs a place to stay. Goddammit, Kyle, I told you I couldn't hang out tonight. Truth is, this amazing blonde that has been visiting the grill has agreed to wait on me after work tonight, and we are supposed to go on a date. Most likely, we'll end up fucking, and I'll pretend that she is the world's best lay ever. She'll get all emotional, and we'll say our goodbyes in the morning. Damn, if I had the love of my best friend, I wouldn't have to go around whoring myself to the town to feel good about who I am. It wouldn't be worth it.
I'm going to have to cancel with Bridget, the hottie from the grill. Too bad I can't talk Kyle into a juicy threesome. Her long legs and his slender figure…we could make some hot love. Okay, so maybe that's where they get this idea that I'm a pervert.
Whatever. I do what I want, as Cartman used to say.
I leave for and return from work it seems almost instantly. My mind was preoccupied with Kyle's concerned voice all night, even when Bridget further entices me by taking me into the backroom and going down on me. She is so fucking hot…but I've said it before. I'll say it again: friends come first. S'okay, she and I made 'plans' for Tuesday night. I better start doing my Yoga stretches for this one. It may be a marathon. I can tell by the way she sucks my dick with the pleasure of a child receiving a long-awaited toy. But for now, Kyle is my priority.
Kyle, who looks emotionally beat-up when I answer his knock on my door. Kyle, who looks down at me with big puffy eyes of confusion. Kyle, who is in love with his best friend and doesn't know how to deal.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" I casually ask, avoiding all awkward male-bonding times. Kyle's came here for a reason, and it sure as hell ain't to bond with me. I'll leave the bonding up to Stan.
He looks pathetic, really. He may be close to a foot taller than me, but I suddenly feel like the bigger man. Kyle is wearing his heart on his sleeve as he comes in, taking a seat next to me on the living room futon.
"Hey, Kenny," he greets. "Boy, do I have to talk to you."
I give him the signal to go on.
"Dude, I don't even know where to start," he begins, uncertainly. I figure I'll just nudge him along the way.
I interrupt him before he stressed himself out further. "Is this about Stan?" I ask, nonchalantly. He shoots me a shocked "how-the-hell-did-you-know" look, and blinks slowly. His eyes fall to the ground.
"Look, I already figured you two out," I explain. "Stan's had a crush on you for over four years now—HE just hasn't really figured it out yet. And, well, you, I'm pretty sure you'll come around too. Guys like that don't pop up out of nowhere, you know."
Kyle looks as if he is straining his ears to actually hear me, but my voice is of perfect volume. I continue. "So what happened?"
Ha, I think he had this whole conversation planned out, and I just messed him up. Knowing Kyle, he probably spent the entire drive down rehearsing how he was going to say what he was going to say. He's a nerd like that. But hey, its cool, cause I got the shocking part out of the way.
"Okay…well…shit Kenny! You ruined my whole big introduction!" he cries.
I knew it! "Okay, I'm shocked, now let's hear it," I mock.
Kyle sends out sort of a half-smile. "Alright. Well, it all started when I kicked Geneva out. When I kicked everyone out…" He tells me the story (you've heard it before), and every so often I catch myself resituating on the couch to avoid any further arousal. Seriously, HOT. Sucks that he can't remember details, only what he has started to recall.
"…and I woke up the next day, not remembering a damn thing. So whatever really happened, I'm not sure. Stan makes it sound like we did some shit that I can't even comprehend."
I stare at Kyle. "So what's the problem?" I ask, honestly.
"Dude! It's Stan! He's my best friend! This is some fucked up shit right here, and I can't deal. I had to get away because everywhere I turn, he's there. He's been really good about not talking to me, but even his presence bothers me."
I continue to stare, dumbfounded. "And you didn't want this?"
"Kenny! If I hadn't taken that shit, I would have NEVER done that stuff!"
I look at him in disbelief. How long was it going to take for him to either breakdown or realize that he might have feelings for Stan? To me, it had been obvious how much Stan likes Kyle, so I am going on a whim that Kyle might, in turn, like Stan back. It's just a theory, but I think I'm going to push for that. See where it goes. And so I press on.
"Are you saying that you didn't, without a doubt in the back of your mind, without the slightest bit of hesitation, without the furthest stretch of your imagination, without an arousing thought, want Stan to confess his feelings to you during this intense, heated moment that will stand out in your memory forever?" I exaggerate for dramatic effect.
"A moment I can't fucking remember?" he fires back, growing angry with me. Shit! I forgot. Time for Plan B.
"Stan likes you. Okay, I said it, Kyle. He likes you. He may even love you, dude. I can tell by the way he looks at you, by the way he talks about you, by the way his voice flutters when he speaks your name, and by the way he always puts you first. In front of EVERYTHING. Even Wendy. You know he risked breaking up with that girl because she didn't approve of you?"
Kyle is speechless. He knows how much Stan loved Wendy. I like how when Stan or Kyle has a problem he can't talk to the other about; I am the one they will turn to. I am the one that will be able to fill the other in. I guess a temporary best friend is better than just being an acquaintance.
"Stan told her he would never give you up, and that caused her to torture him for two full weeks. But she realized it was a lost cause, and tried to make amends. And somehow she transformed her apology into a 'you should be begging to get me back' ordeal. Stan caved in, the pussy that he is, and eventually Wendy just stopped trying to control THAT aspect of his life." I pause. Kyle looks down at me with thoughtful green eyes and sighs.
"I remember that. He and Wendy were in their longest fight EVER, and I was so proud of him for actually standing up to her." Kyle fixates his gaze onto the floor. "But he told me it was because they had too many differences."
"Nope. It was cause of you," I hastily remind him, and watch as he bashfully blushes.
He clears his throat. "So…Stan…likes me," he said, more to himself than anyone else. I'm pretty sure it just sunk in the extent to how much Stan feels for him. Before, he might have thought it was like a one-night horny-fest, but I could tell now that he knew it was for real.
"He told me he loves me," Kyle mentions in a matter-of-fact way. He covers his face with his hands and leans forward. "And I was such a douche to him!" I hear him sniff, and wonder if he's crying or if he's just cold. My house is barely above outside temperature.
"Dude, I fucking called him a faggot! I told him to stay away from me, and I told him that I couldn't look at him because he despises me!"
Yeah, that will hurt someone's feelings all right. "Kyle, don't be so hard on yourself. Its not like you really knew the situation when it happened. It sounds to me like you were still pretty out of it, and overcoming the shock of seeing your best friend in your bed was probably something that didn't come lightly to you." I lower my voice. "And it's not too late to fix anything."
Kyle looks up. He had been crying. "I've hurt him so much, I don't see us ever recovering."
"Do you love him back?"
Kyle stares into my eyes, blankly. I can't quite tell what he is thinking, but I think my words throw him off again. He is silent for well over a minute. I'm giving him time to process his thoughts.
"I…I don't know," he manages to finally sputter. "I've never looked at him that way before. I don't know if I can."
"Well," I reply. "There is only one way to find out."