Chapter Six

Warning: The following chapter contains heavy offensive language and may contain adult themes that may not be suitable for sensitive/young readers. If you're not used to the South Park humor and/or don't like it, then please don't read this fan fiction. If you are not a fan of Yaoi or this particular pairing, then please don't read this Fan Fiction. If you're a perfectionist who insists that the author must get absolutely everything right or it's the end of the world, then PLEASE don't read this fan fiction. XD
***I do not own any of the mentioned characters. All characters belong to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.***

The bomb shelter being quiet was never really a surprise. There was never anything in the bomb shelter, and it was hard hearing the quiet things that reside outside it. However, with the shelter's temporary residents, the current sounds that invaded the lonely silence was the quiet, slow and peaced breaths of two teenage boys, lost deep within the comforting waves of sleep. It'd been forever since the two of them were actually able to close their eyes and dream... and now, recollecting their thoughts and gaining back their energy was important.

The first one to wake was Stan. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but the feeling of being refreshed and ready to start the day in a good mood was evidence that he'd been asleep for a while. As his light blue eyes fluttered open to reveal the world that surrounded him, his gaze was only met by unpleasant darkness. Instead of the usual morning light that seemed to make a lightless room glow during the early hours of the day, Stan only awoke to the discomfort of the darkness, with the heavy seal of the bomb shelter that kept out all natural light. It was a bit upsetting that he hadn't been able to see the natural light from the sun, but he'd been awakening to pure darkness for so long... he was used to it.

However, through the freezing temperatures that caused his body to shake and shiver way more than it ever should have been able to, he wasn't used to the odd, unfamiliar, soft and warm pressure against his torso. In fact... he'd never felt something like this before.

At first, he was still, his body slowly growing tense as he realized that there was something new. And in South Park, something new was almost always something bad. His first few thoughts were 'Oh God, I have cancer!' or 'Shit, I'm about to be eaten by some giant creature!'. But the longer he lay there and thought about what could have possibly been on him... he realized that the pressure wasn't something.

It was someone.

His body grew tense still, as he began to list off the people that could have possibly been laying against him. The fog of sleep was still clearing in his mind, but... it wasn't long before he realized that the only one who was even in the bomb shelter at all with him was...

'Kyle.'

Slowly, worried that if he'd do anything, something bad would happen, he raised his right arm up, and gently brought it to his chest. His skinny fingers made instant contact with the soft red locks of Kyle's curly hair. The Jewish boy didn't so much as stir... instead, bury his face deeper into the soft cloth of Stan's shirt, and wrap his arms tighter around the ebony-haired boy's chest.

Stan began to freeze up as a million questions began to flood his mind. Why was Kyle cuddled up against him? WHEN had Kyle cuddled up against him? HOW LONG had they been in that position? And most importantly... why the Hell hadn't Stan noticed when Kyle curled against him, head on his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, when he did it in the first place?

Stan tried moving away from Kyle's grip, but was only met with the irritating fact that Kyle was really strong when he was asleep. Kyle's arms didn't budge from Stan's chest. If anything, Kyle wrapped himself even tighter around Stan's body, one leg drifting over one of Stan's own. There was a soft, sleep-filled, content sigh from the redhead, before he went completely still as he was dragged deep under sleep again.

Stan lightly bit his lower lip as he tried figuring out what to do. If Kyle would wake to see himself cuddled against his best friend, it would make things really, really awkward. The usually green-hatted boy probably didn't even know what he was doing. He was probably dreaming about being back at home, to the comfort of his own bed and blankets.

Then, the raven-haired boy remembered the candles. The lights in the bomb-shelter were on while the two were awake, but luckily, Stan's Uncle Jimbo was smart enough to pack some candles and matches, just in-case the electricity went out, if there ever came a time where the bomb shelter would be put into use. Kyle and Stan had been using the candles during the nights, if they ever needed to get up for something, and didn't want to bug the other person with the brightness of the lights on the ceiling. Stan convinced himself that this was a time for candles, as he gently reached out and snatched one of the white sticks, and the heavy, small box stuffed with matches.

With the flick of Stan's wrist, with the skinny, wooden stick in his fingers, the match was lit, creating a tiny glow in the middle of the darkness. Stan carefully moved the match to the candle and lit the whisk of the candle on fire. The glow grew a little bigger, but stayed a small flame, still producing enough light to be able to see things close by. Stan gently rested the candle against the ground and blew out the flame on the match, before gently propping himself onto his elbows. Even with the movement of his body, Kyle still didn't wake. He kept a tight hold on the boy, as he continued to rest his head against his chest.

Stan tiredly let himself look around what he could see of the room, before letting his gaze flick to his friend's dimly-lit face. Kyle's eyelids had come together, his eyes rolling around under them as he dreamed. His pale skin showed the faintest red coding against his cheeks. His lips were lightly parted, twitching every once in a while, to show, again, that he was dreaming.

Stan couldn't help but stare at the boy's face, noting how calm and peaceful he looked. Kyle was enjoying the needed sleep that he hadn't been able to get in days. The two thin blankets draped over them only just barely came up to Kyle's shoulders. His small, brown leather jacket had slowly begun to slip off of his shoulders, exposing his now usual Terrance and Phillip pajama shirt. Part of his curly red hair had fallen over his face, covering the right side.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of Stan's lips as he watched his friend sleep. Even though Kyle was holding on rather tightly to him, the way he was acting was kind of cute...

Wait. What?

Stan's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. He made a soft, uncomfortable grunt and quickly looked away, his pale face quickly flushing red. Had he seriously just thought that to himself? It was creepy enough as it is, being too much of a pussy to wake his friend up and then watch him sleep, but now he was saying that Kyle was cute? What the HELL was wrong with him?!

Stan let his eyes slowly drift back to Kyle's sleeping face again. The boy's arms had begun to slightly loosen around Stan's chest. The way Kyle slept there, nuzzled against his shirt, making soft sleeping sighs... it was... cute.

No.

Stan quickly shook his head, and gently began to slip Kyle's arms away from his chest. The redhead only lay limp in Stan's hold, not even stirring as the raven-haired boy gently pushed Kyle onto his side. Kyle's back was now to Stan, his face hidden by the shadows.

Stan couldn't believe himself. He quickly shook his head and stood, grabbing the candle as he made his way toward the light switch. He tripped at first, not exactly ready to be up and moving (since he just woke up), but he forced himself to walk straight as he made his way to the wall.

He'd called his friend cute. Twice. He'd let Kyle's head rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around him. He watched Kyle sleep, for Christ's sake. It was creepy! Stan couldn't really figure out what the Hell was the matter with himself. He'd never thought of Kyle as cute before. Sure, he had thought that Kyle was funny, or a really good friend to hang out with. They could almost do anything together. But calling Kyle cute was not normal and not just a "close-friend" thing.

...This didn't mean he liked Kyle, did he?

...No, of 'course not! He'd known Kyle all his life. If he liked Kyle, then he would have already figured it out a long time ago. He was sixteen years old, and Kyle was only a year younger than him. You can't start having feelings for someone if you've known them for that long and not felt anything before. ...Right?

Stan shook his head again as he turned on the light, watching the bright glow light up the room. Kyle remained asleep in the corner, clearly unaffected by the darkness' sudden disappearance. He curled up tighter in the two blankets he now had to himself. Stan watched from a distance, eyes trailing over Kyle's covered back, and messy red hair. Messy red hair, with those soft curls that bounced cutely wherever he-...

'Stop it!' Stan, for the third time that morning, shook his head again as he tried to push the image of Kyle's amazing red hair out of his mind. It was morning (well, actually, that was debatable. They didn't have a clock, and thanks to not being able to see the sun, they couldn't really tell what time it actually was), and Stan was probably just still half-asleep, and thinking the weird thoughts that everyone thought when they first woke up. It was just something little. Stan would get over it. ...Besides, today was going to be busy. Today, they were going to break out of the bomb shelter and return home. He could take a nice hot shower, reunite with everyone he'd been missing (he even missed his sister, which was something he never thought he'd admit to himself), and then kick the crap out of Cartman before reporting him to the police. He had no time to worry over what he may have been thinking about his best friend. Today was important. Today would lead to his freedom.

Stan abandoned his thoughts of Kyle, and instead, blew the candle out, set it on the ground, and moved to one of the boxes of food. Getting onto his knees, he rummaged through the box before finally plucking out a can of peaches. Moving from his knees to his ass, he sat with his legs crossed (Criss-Cross-Apple-Sauce, as his kindergarten teacher had taught him before he accidentally helped burn her alive), and put the can in his lap. Undoing the tab, he tossed the lid of the can to the side, and plunged a plastic fork into one of the pieces of peach. He raised his fork up to his face, eyeing the small piece of fruit on the plastic prongs curiously, before slipping it past his lips. The piece of peach easily slid off of the fork, rolling around between his teeth before slipping down his throat. Stan lightly hummed at the sweet peach-flavor on his taste-buds, before moving the fork back into the can.

There was a light, sleepy groan from the corner of the room. Stan quickly lifted his head up, darting to Kyle's waking figure. The redhead was in a sitting position now, head tilted down toward his chest, allowing his red hair to fall in front of his face. He gave a light yawn, stretching his arms out in front of him, before letting them fall into his lap again. His head slowly tilted back up, his eyes flicking to Stan.

Stan, for some reason he really wasn't sure of, quickly looked away, suddenly finding his peaches very interesting. He delivered another forkful of peach slices into his lips again, before giving a soft "morning, Kyle" to his friend.

"G'morning, Stan!" Kyle's voice was rather bright and sing-song like. Stan looked up again, and watched as Kyle, now on his feet, began to approach him. His curls bounced with each step that he took, and it was all Stan could do to not think about how cute his friend's hair looked.

Kyle plopped down next to the black-haired boy and began to go through the box himself, before pulling out his own can of peaches, and his own plastic fork. He didn't even glance at Stan as he hungrily tore off the lid to the can and began to scarf down the peaches. Stan couldn't help but notice Kyle eat rather quickly, watching as he took in forkful after forkful seconds before the last. He lightly tilted his head to the side, and raised an eyebrow. "Dude, what's the rush?" He asked. "You're acting like you haven't eaten in weeks."

Kyle looked up to Stan, his cheeks slightly puffed with the food that he was chewing. Stan couldn't help but think of Cartman and his fat face. Stan refused the urge to softly laugh.

"I'm sorry, Stan." Kyle spoke after he was finished eating the peaches that were in his mouth. He let the fork drop into the half-empty can between his crossed legs. "I'm just really excited about getting out of here. I just know we'll find an exit! There's got to be one around here somewhere, and we'll turn this place upsidown looking until we find it!"

Stan smiled at Kyle's happy confidence. "You woke up in a good mood this morning, I guess." If it was morning. How would they know?

Kyle's emerald eyes lit up, and after eating another forkful of peaches, he responded. "Yeah, dude!" He grinned widely. "I feel great! I haven't actually slept for more than twenty minutes in days. It was nice to be able to rest. I guess that second blanket really made it warm enough to sleep."

Stan's smile fell, and he looked away, red covering his cheeks again. So it was confirmed. Kyle had no idea of what he was doing while he was asleep.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Kyle must have noticed Stan's smile fall, because after only a couple moments, his voice piped up again. "Is something bugging you? You don't seem as happy as I am this morning."

Stan took a bite out of the peaches in the can and lightly shrugged his shoulders. He kept his gaze away from Kyle. Of 'course he wasn't going to tell his friend about what happened only twenty minutes before.

"I'm fine, Kyle." Stan responded, forcing his voice to seem a little happier. He tilted his head up to look at Kyle again. "I'm just not too confident that we'll find the exit."

LIE. That was a lie. He just told a lie to his best friend. Stan could picture his father now, dark blue eyes seriously staring into his son's as he coached him on lying. 'Don't look away, don't scratch your neck, and don't touch your ear.'

Stan winced a little at the thought. That was the day they lied and cheated about the car-making kit in the Pine-Wood Derby competition. The little lie they told got another boy's father killed, and got the whole planet locked away from the rest of the universe. Yup... lying was so the right thing to do.

Kyle's smile was sincere... and reassuring. Gently, the redhead reached over and patted Stan's shoulder. Stan tensed, feeling the now-familiar warmth of Kyle's hand.

"Don't worry, dude." Kyle continued smiling, his tone a bit softer. "Even if we don't find it today, the progress we'll make will bring us closer to finding the exit. We're going to get out of here, Stan. And when we do..." Kyle smirked. "We'll kick Cartman's fat ass so hard, he'll never fuck with us again."

Stan's smile reappeared on his face. He gave a light laugh and nodded. "You're right, dude. We'll find a way out of here, and make Cartman pay. Everything is going to be okay again."

Kyle lightly laughed and took his hand away from Stan's shoulder. Stan watched as his friend rested the can of peaches against the ground, and stood. He raised his arms over his head, giving a small stretch before looking around. His eyes darted around the room, the light from the ceiling almost making them glow. "Hey uh, Stan?" He asked curiously. "Where did we put that box of Ned's clothes?"

"...Ned's clothes?" Stan asked, now curious himself. He raised an eyebrow. "Uhh, over there," He gestured with his hand, to the box of clothes that was only a little ways away from them. "Why do you need Ned's clothes, dude?"

Kyle slipped off his leather jacket, tossing it to the side as he made his way to the box. The jacket soundlessly hit the floor, abandoned and quickly forgotten.

"I'm getting sick of these clothes," Kyle grumbled. "I know most of Ned's clothes are too small for me, but there's got to be some sort of shirt in here that I can replace my pajama top with. I don't really want to go home to my family in my Terrance And Phillip clothes."

"How come? It's just Terrance And Phillip..." Stan mumbled.

"Dude, you know my Mom hates that show," Kyle looked over his shoulder as he spoke, approaching the box. "She doesn't even know that I still own my Terrance And Phillip pajamas. If she realizes I do, she'll get pissed and want to take me shopping."

Before Stan could reply, Kyle opened up the box of Ned's clothes and bent over, beginning to go through the box, tossing out different articles of tiny clothing. Stan tried to focus on his peaches – Oh God, he really did try – but the fork didn't pass his lips again as he let his eyes roam over Kyle's ass. It was almost as if Kyle was purposely teasing him, wiggling it back and fourth as he tried to find something in the box that would fit him. Stan was thankful that he was turned away, and couldn't see the expression on his black-haired friend's face.

Kyle went on to talk about something that had to do with getting out, but Stan couldn't pay attention. He was almost hypnotized, unable to tear his eyes away from Kyle's body. Finally, the Jewish boy stood straight again, holding a small back shirt in his hands. Stan was finally able to look away and looked to the shirt, watching as Kyle tried to stretch it to make it a little bigger.

"Do you think it'll fit?" Stan asked. He immediately regretted asking the question, his whole face flushing red. He got a half-smirk from Kyle. "I-I mean..." Stan stammered. "O-On you. D-Do you think the shirt will fit on you?"

Kyle laughed, rolling his eyes at Stan's sudden embarrassment before shrugging. "I dunno," He said honestly. "We'll just have to see."

Gently, Kyle tossed the shirt back into the box, before reaching down and pulling his Terrance And Phillip Pajamas over his head. Stan's jaw lightly dropped as he watched the shirt leave his body, exposing his light-colored chest. Kyle's muscles seemed a lot more noticeable than before. Kyle stood there for a moment, staring down at his Terrance And Phillip pajamas as he pondered whether or not he should actually try wearing Ned's shirt. He lightly rolled his shoulders back, his shoulder blades sticking out before hiding back into his back again. Stan almost couldn't take it. His eyes roamed up and down Kyle's lean figure, taking in every piece of beautiful soft skin and-

'Ah!' Stan mentally screamed at the thoughts going through his mind. He forced his gaze away, forcing himself busy himself with his peaches as he tried to push more thoughts of his shirtless friend out of his mind. Sure, he'd seen Kyle shirtless before. It wasn't a regular thing, but there wasn't exactly a way to hide yourself in the boy's locker-room at school. But for some reason... looking at Kyle now seemed... different. There was a need in Stan. There was something he wanted from Kyle. Something he felt for Kyle. He didn't know what it was, and...

It was driving him fucking insane.

"Stan? Are you even here right now?"

Stan quickly looked up to Kyle's confused face again, but found himself looking at the redhead's chest. The black shirt was now hiding... most of him. It was a little loose, which was strange for something like Ned's clothes, and it didn't come down all the way. Kyle's stomach was completely exposed. The shortness of his shirt almost looked like something the skimpy girls wore at school... with shirts that only barely passed their chests. Except, Kyle's shirt was only a little longer.

"It's a little short, but it actually feels better than the pajama top." Kyle spoke as Stan observed the shirt. "Ma won't be too happy with it, but it's better than her finding out that I still have Terrance And Phillip stuff." His head slightly tilted to the side. "What do you think?"

Stan quickly nodded. "It looks gr- fine!" He silently scolded himself. How embarrassing would it have been if he told Kyle that the short shirt looked "great" on him? "It looks fine. You'll be able to change back when you get to your house, anyway. Your Mom will understand."

"Yeah," Kyle sighed. He lightly smiled again, picking up his shirt and letting it fall into the box. "I can't wait to get back home. I miss my family."

"Me too..." Stan mumbled. He put his peaches on the ground and stood, lightly stretching his arms. "I was thinking earlier; I even miss Shelly. I know it sounds kind of hard to believe."

"No, dude, I get it." Kyle replied. "I mean, Ike and I aren't that close anymore... but I miss him, too."

There was a sad look in Kyle's green eyes. Stan understood. Kyle and Ike had been growing distant the last few years. Ike was growing up, and so was Kyle. They were both entering different stages of life, and couldn't really share the same interests anymore. Ike was just beginning to understand girls, and Kyle was thinking about what college he wanted to go to in just a couple years. Stan knew that it bugged Kyle to know that he and his little brother were growing apart. Stan occasionally had to remind the redhead that it would get better, and they'd grow a bond again.

"Yes, I think the house is perfect! Joshua, sweetie, we definitely need to move in!"

Stan looked to Kyle, but Kyle's lips were still. Kyle was looking at Stan with the same expression. There was a voice. A voice that didn't belong to either of them. The voice was muffled, and a bit hard to hear, but it was there.

Slowly, both of their eyes widened, and they glanced toward the entrance of the bomb shelter. The two of them grew absolutely quiet, and absolutely still.

"Yes, darling, the house is beautiful! And Melissa really seems to love it."

"I can picture your little family really enjoying living here, Mr. Rogers. The man who owned this house about a month back lived here for several years. He's finally had to give it up for something else, but, he told us personally that this was the best home he'd ever lived in."

"Well, we'll take it, Mr. Reed."

Stan looked to Kyle. Kyle looked to Stan. Both jaws were dropped. Both eyes were wide. Both bodies were shaking.

Kyle screamed. Stan screamed. They shoved past each other as they bolted for the latter. Stan reached the metal structure first, taking hold of the bars as he quickly, yet carefully scrambled up the steps. Kyle was right behind Stan, screaming as loud as he could. When they reached the top of the latter, Stan reached up and pounded on the lid of the bomb shelter. He used one hand to tightly hold onto the latter so he wouldn't fall.

"Hey! Open up! There are two boys in here!" Stan yelled, slamming his fist as hard as he could against the door.

Kyle squeezed next to Stan's side, forcing Stan to move over just a bit. He screamed loudly and slammed his own free hand against the door, keeping another hand safely on the latter.

"Please!" He cried out. "Please! We've been stuck in here for... we don't know how long! Just get us out of here!"

"Can you hear us?!" Stan yelled. "Hey, let us out!"

The sun was shining high in the sky, casting a golden-like glow against the empty space. Big, fluffy white clouds formed shapes in the imagination of children as they floated on by. From the ground, in the cold green grass covered by three feet of snow, a young girl stood, watching the clouds as she gently played with a strand of her long blonde hair with a pink-gloved hand.

Her parents were walking back to the back deck of the strange, unfamiliar house, chatting away with the House Salesman that had driven them there. The salesman wore a nice suit and had a big, friendly, flashy smile that made any costumer feel safe and welcomed wherever they were taken. However, the girl had remained in the back yard, given permission to wonder about, since they were going to buy the house anyway.

The yard was empty and unfenced, but that didn't stop the young girl from imagining a big playground, with a slide and a swing-set sitting only a little ways away. Maybe, if she played her cards right, she could convince her parents to put in a play-place for her. Her parents usually gave into her wishes... as money was never really a problem for her family.

Her eyes continued to scan the backyard... eventually landing on a snow-covered lump in the ground. At first, she expected it to be just a pile of snow that would cave in once she got on top of it, but... as she reached her hands out to touch it, she was surprised when her hands slipped through about an inch of snow, and met a metal bar.

Curious now, the girl began to sweep the snow off of the structure, to reveal a giant handle. Under the handle was a giant... lid-like thing.

And under that, to her surprise, were voices... voices calling for help.

"Hello?!" They screamed. Their voices were muffled and faint, but hearable. "Are you there?! P-Please, Jesus Christ, let us out of here!"

The girl tilted her head at the door, listening to the frantic voices and the faint banging that followed. For a moment... she almost felt like responding... but she decided to keep her voice to herself. Instead, she reached out and grabbed the handle. She tried to pull – only to discover that the bar was too slippery to fully grab onto. She lightly frowned and put her hands on her hips.

"Melissa!" Her mother's tone called from the back deck of the house. "Come on, sweet heart! Nice Mr. Reed is going to drive us home so we can start packing up our things!"

Melissa turned to look toward her mother, who was gesturing to return to her with her hand. Melissa lightly shook her head.

"Mommy, I think I hear-"

"Come on, honey!" Her father commanded, eyes focused on a paper that he was signing. "Let's go. We'll be back. You can check out the shelter again when we return tomorrow, okay?"

Melissa lightly pouted, but she obeyed. Shoving her hands into the pocket of her purple coat, she trudged through the snow as she made her way back to her parents.

The voices were gone. Whoever had been close to the bomb shelter had been called away, and... now the voices were gone. Stan's eyes were lit with panic as he tried to listen for anyone that still could have been there. But there was no one. They were alone again.

Beside him, Kyle's breaths began to become heavy and quick. Was he... hyperventilating?! That wasn't like Kyle! Stan looked to his friend, lifting his hand to rest on the Jewish boy's shoulder.

"Kyle..." He whispered. "Kyle, it's o-"

"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" Kyle screamed. He raised his arms and pounded them against the lid of the bomb shelter.

...Raised his arms.

...His arms.

Stan gasped and reached out to grab Kyle, but it was too late. Kyle gasped as his body tilted backward, feet slipping, falling from the latter completely. Stan heard Kyle scream as he plummeted down. As his body roughly hit the floor, there was the sound of a bone cracking... and then silence. Kyle lay, limp and motionless on the ground. Stan's eyes were wide and his jaw was dropped again.

"...K...Kyle?" He called out.

No answer.

"Kyle?!"

No reply.

"KYLE!"

Noooooooooo! Kyyyyyyyyyyyle! T_T

This would be the part where I'd think the author was a horrible person for hurting one of the characters and then ending the chapter on a cliff-hanger, buuuuuut... I'm the author, so I guess I can't really be mad at myself... XD

But noooooooo! Kyyyyyyyyyle! T_T

The next chapter is coming out soon, guys! Thank you so much for your patience and support! The story probably wouldn't be going on if it wasn't for you guys. The reviews and positive feedback keep me going. You guys are so great! ^-^