It so happened that Stan and Kyle were perhaps the only creatures, on or off the planet, who hadn't realized that Tweek and Craig were an item. Kenny, who had come back to prevent getting a zero on his Literature test in sixth period, informed them of this at lunch.
Apparently, once they had gotten over seeing each other as mortal enemies in the third grade, they had quickly become good friends, and things had just sort of gradually progressed from there, and the town just accepted that. Of course, it was sort of more assumed that they were a couple more than they had come out as a couple. Either way, Tweek's parents gave their blessing, and Craig's just didn't really care.
Of course, they Kyle and Stan had been too absorbed with each other at the time to notice much else.
The nine or ten people hadn't been entirely off. Stan and Kyle weren't in a position to inform them of this, perhaps because they liked it better that way, perhaps because it was more fun, but most likely because they just weren't sure what to do.
But, they loved each other.
But, they were straight.
But somehow their eyes lingered on each other, met, and for whatever reason it was that they had started looking at each other in the first place, it was too strong for either to break. Their eyes remained connected, because, as the transcendentalists might say, if you look very closely you cannot see where blue and green stop meeting, or where either colour fades or changes into the other. And they couldn't go without this happening at least once a day.
They weren't even aware of it until that day.
"What are we going to do about this, Stan?" Kyle whispered from across the table. They were doing it again, losing touch with the rest of the world, excluding themselves somewhere that no one else could enter or reach. Their own little corner of the universe only accessed through each other.
"I don't want to do anything. I want it to stay how it is. That's the only way that it will even stay this." Stan said.
Kyle shrugged.
"It can't. The world doesn't let that happen. That's how this happened." Kyle said.
"Really? Because I always saw it as the only thing that's been constant for me." Stan sighed, and shook his head. He made a valiant attempt to explain, because somehow he thought an explanation was needed, but it turned into a series of broken um's, yeah's, like's, uh's, and a single, "Dude."
Kyle laughed.
"What's weird is that I completely understood all of that. Uncanny, your ability to articulate your feelings."
"Shut up," Stan laughed, but then moaned and massaged the bridge of his nose, "That's what I mean. That's part of this…this thing."
They stared at each other again.
Then the lunch bell rang, only intensifying their frustration, because it only confirmed that somehow they had reached a level that the rest of the school day was an eternity, keeping them from finding a place away from any kind of prying so that they could attack and kiss each other like they were wild dogs.
Had Cartman been there, he would have been screaming that they go find a room.
They realized that he would have been somehow right on and maybe that was what they needed to do. For once.
