October 29, 2016

The mirror had toothpaste splatters all over it. Black and white face paint and non-prescription contacts were bundled in a small Party City bag on the marble counter. A breeze whistled through the open window. The windchime that Sharon Marsh had hung from the bathroom ceiling rattled in pleasant, oaky tones. Both Stan and Kyle were confused as to why she chose the bathroom for a windchime, especially since it was made of layered brass and tiny wooden spoons. It would make more sense in a kitchen. But no one dared confront her about it. There were more important things.

A painted wood panel that read BLESS THIS HOME in blue calligraphy that was nailed above the vanity-style mirror was illuminated by the yellowing light bulbs. Almost all the bathrooms in South Park looked like this- the 70s having unprotected, unnatural sex with a western ranch. Floors creaked or had holes in them. Depending on whose house you were in, the tub would be stained orange from well water.

The carpeting in the bathroom was long enough so that Kyle could squeeze it between his toes even though he had socks on. Black socks. His whole outfit was black. Soon it would be covered in black, satin robes.

He gripped the frame of the sink and sighed at this reflection in the dirtied mirror. Today had been hard. Harder than most other days.

But he made sure that the handprint from his face had faded before escaping to Stan's house.

The Marsh family was out for the night, doing one of those 'Survive the Night' camps at a "haunted" farm a few miles away. Kyle couldn't imagine forking over $100 just to have to deal with Randy overreacting to every single thing all night. Stan couldn't either, and that's why he was downstairs, going through the family costume box. Stan had his heart set on the Frida Kahlo costume, but it was too big, and his father had done it the year before anyway.

They were due in an hour for Token's Halloween party.

Kyle opted to dress as Papa Emeritus Ⅲ from the band Ghost, hence the face paint and contacts. He glanced over at the gold-encrusted Pope hat, stitched with a "G" that also doubled as an upside-down cross. Kyle looked up at the BLESS THIS HOME sign, bemused. He didn't think God would exactly strike him down just then. If he was going to do it, he would have done it a long god damn time ago.

Unpacking the Party City bag, he called out to Stan: "Hey, babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Should I do the contacts first or the make-up first?"

A pause, and then "I think you should do the contacts first instead of second 'cause you might irritate your eyes if you get make-up residue on the contacts."

"Oh, yeah," Kyle looked at his now seemingly dumb reflection in the mirror. The answer was so obvious. "Good thinking. I definitely don't want to go fucking blind today."

"Yeah, no… ooh, yes!" It sounded like Stan found a costume.

Carefully, Kyle put in the bright blue contacts, one pupil much smaller than the other. In the dim lighting, he looked like a completely different person. A demon.

"Well, that's the point I suppose," he muttered to himself. He opened up the face paint tray with a crack and used the tiny plastic brush to start outlining black around his eyes. He painted over his eyebrows, drawing them at a downward angle, giving him a permanently angry glare for the night.

"Hey Kyle," Stan's voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of the stairs, "did you eat yet?"

Kyle paused. "Are you we not eating at Token's?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's probably just going to be finger food. Like, rice krispie treats that look like mummies 'n shit."

Kyle laughed. Token's mom was such a Pinterest addict and he could very much envision it. "I'm not hungry. But you go ahead and eat if you are."

"When's the last time you ate though?"

This again…

"I had a bagel this morning," Kyle replied, turning on the faucet and putting his hands under the warm water. It felt good. He opened his mouth to lip sync Stan's next words, because he had heard them so many times before:

"That's not healthy, Kyle."

Truthfully, neither of them were a perfect picture of health, but they continually jabbed at each other: I'm about to rip that cigarette out of your mouth, Kyle or Remember what we said, Stan? Ice cubes. Put an ice cube on your wrist instead.

Stan rummaged around in the kitchen cabinets for a bit before trekking upstairs to Kyle, who was drying his hands. He stood in the open bathroom doorway. "Do you want this?" Stan held up a box of Suddenly Pasta.

Kyle dramatically jumped back and gasped, clutching his hand over his heart.

"What?!" Stan asked, wide-eyed.

"It scared me," Kyle said, grinning, "It was just so… sudden."

"You're actually the worst," Stan rolled his eyes with a smile, "Your eye make-up looks good so far."

"Really? Thank you. You look really fucking cute, by the way." He did. Stan was dressed as Alex from A Clockwork Orange. Everything from the cap to the white leotard and the pelvic piece, a full-on Droog. The look really suited him, even though Stan was the complete opposite of the character he was dressed up as. "You should kiss me now, Stan, before I put the bottom half of the face on."

Stan rolled his eyes again before putting the spooky box of Suddenly Pasta on the counter, next to the Pope hat. He put his arms on Kyle's shoulders and wrapped him in a kiss.

"The contacts look cool too," Stan said when they pulled apart.

Kyle pushed him back against the counter, ran a hand over Stan's chest, "do you want to hear a really heavy motherfucker?" He asked in a terrible Swedish accent, trying to capture Papa's stage presence from the last time they saw Ghost in concert.

"Oh, stop it," Stan said, laughing, "we don't have time to, uh, "monster mash" right now, dude- whoa, what the fuck happened to your wrist?"

Fuck… Kyle forgot that his jacket sleeve had covered it earlier. Now he was in a tee shirt and the purple and red marks, signs of someone gripping him too tightly, was in plain view. "It's nothing," Kyle said. He started kissing Stan's neck and collarbone.

"Kyle, stop." Stan held Kyle's wrist up to his face. Kyle regarded him with a leveled gaze. He started sweating a little. "Did your dad do this to you?" Stan asked quietly in the tone of a concerned brother and the expression of a vengeful lover.

"Sometimes we have good days," was all Kyle could spit out.

Stan ran three fingers gently over the vein on the bottom of his boyfriend's wrist, "Those good days seem to be far and few between."

"It… it has been getting worse," Kyle admitted, "but only because I've started sticking up for myself."

"I'm so worried about you, Kyle."

"Please don't. Just take care of yourself, please."

"Your dad is fucked up."

"I know."

Stan leaned back a little. "Would you rather just stay home tonight? I don't think anyone will notice if we blow this party off."

"No, no, we can still go."

"It's okay if you're not feeling up to it though."

"I think it would help me actually if we went. It'll be a nice distraction."

Stan frowned, "What did you guys fight about this time?"

Kyle sighed. He wiped away at some of the paint that got on Stan's cheek. "I told him that I don't want to go to law school."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah, I just wanted to get it over with."

"Did you tell him you want to do marine biology instead?"

Kyle scoffed, "No, he was so fucking adamant about the fucking law school thing that I couldn't get a word in about anything else. He just fucking flipped."

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, Stan, it's okay. It won't be much longer now." He stepped back against the towel rack, felt the fabric brush against the back of his arms. "I'll be fine. We'll be fine."

"I love you, Kyle."

"I love you too, Stan."

They smiled weakly at each other.

"Well," said Stan, grabbing the pasta box, "you're going to eat. I don't care if we're going to be late. Not that it takes long anyway, but-"

"Stan?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just… for just being here."

"Well, I live here, Kyle."

"You know what I mean."

Stan just smiled again. He crossed over the threshold between the bathroom and hallway before turning around to face Kyle, "You should really consider moving in with us. You know how cozy the basement is… we can stay down there. It'll be kind of like having our own place."

"My parents would never allow it. They'd send a SWAT team after me."

"What about when you turn 18? It won't be long now."

Behind the contacts, Kyle's eyes lit up a little, "Maybe." He bit his lip. "Actually, yes. I would like that a lot."

"We'll just do everything backward," said Stan, "We'll move in together, have kids, and then get married."

"Or we could move in together, have kids, get divorced, and then get married," Kyle played along.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Stan laughed. He looked at Kyle one last time before heading back downstairs.

Kyle picked up the plastic brush again. Filling in the shape around his eyes, he quietly sang to himself: Come together, together as one. Come together, for Lucifer's son…

A/N: Hi, another short chapter. I just wanted to have a little Halloween bit because it's my favorite holiday. And I don't know why Kyle has so many problems but I promise it'll start getting better for him.

For both of them.