Stan was sitting in Math, unable to concentrate. Not only was he distracted as it was the last period of the day, but all he could think of was Kyle. He was staring at these scientific notation equations written up in off-yellow chalk on the blackboard, but he saw nothing that made logical sense. In his mind's eye he could only see Kyle and his green ushanka, turning his painfully adorable, blushing pout away as he murmured about accidentally forgetting to let Stan's hand go.

Stan's chin was slumped in his hand again as he stared with a glazed interest. He blushed as he remembered what Kenny had said to him. Suggesting something like that was sick, wasn't it? It was twisted and Stan should be upset, right? He should be angry with Kenny, he should be shocked and disturbed by the very thought of…

Of holding Kyle's hand…

Of brushing his hand along Kyle's flustered cheeks…

Of embracing Kyle closely…

Of running his hands across Kyle's revealed, rare flesh…

Of kissing Kyle…

"Mr. Marsh?" Ms. Ellen asked curiously

Stan snapped back into reality and stammered, "S-sorry? What?"

His teacher chuckled and stated in monotone, "I know that this is last period, Mr. Marsh, but please try to stay on target and leave your daydreaming for later."

I can't daydream of Kyle later, you hag, I'll be at his house with him later…

"Yeah…sorry." Instead Stan replied

He didn't mean it, though; he continued to imagine Kyle. He had forgotten what it looked like under Kyle's ushanka; he remembered Kyle's insanely large Jew afro when they were young, but he wondered if he had changed at all. Without allowing his brain to do so, it produced an image of himself, slowly removing the dreaded ushanka and pulling Kyle to him by the small of his back. He imagined Kyle smiling to him, happily melting in Stan's arms as Stan pulled him closer and set his canines into Kyle's tender neck.

Stan tried to stop the perverse images from entering his mind; of his hands crawling up Kyle's chest and unzipping him, throwing the clothing to the side. He imagined Kyle returning the favor and removing Stan's black shirt from underneath his jacket as well. Stan's naked chest was running against Kyle's then removed white shirt. Their expressions were painted with soft strokes of rose on their faces as they pulled closer to each other in his mind. Kyle's lanky arms wrapped around Stan's neck, pulling him closer and into a desperate kiss as Stan reached down and released the metal button of its tight hold in the denim net across it.

"Mr. Marsh!" the irritating voice returned

Stan jumped as the bell rang and allowed him to out-run the surely torturous reprimanding he would receive from the elderly woman that so haunted his every ninth period. She was a terrible woman, Ms. Ellen. She had never done Stanley Marsh any harm until this day, until this day that she nearly made him late to meeting Kyle at bus and saving Kyle the seat next to him. He 'did' make it on time to see Kyle boarding the bus and raced to sit next to him. Not that anyone would take his seat, but he had so waited to see Kyle all day; he was simply eager.

He smiled as he rested next to his best friend and asked in a friendly tone, "So, how are you feeling, Kye?"

That damn nickname again…

"Oh…much better, thanks, Stan." Kyle replied with a content smile

Kyle no longer appeared pale or ill. His presence wasn't clammy and unnerving as it was only hours ago, and it made Stan sigh with content. Stan was about to start conversation, but was stopped before the first syllable reached the air, as he noticed Kyle turning his head away to stare out the window. Stan frowned slightly, asking simply, "Is there something wrong, Kye?"

Kyle blushed and was now determined not to let Stan see it as his eyes lowered and he muttered, "Don't worry about it."

Stan instantaneously gripped Kyle's shoulder and twisted him around, stating harshly, "No. I worry about, Kyle…as much as you seem to hate it, I do and I don't plan on stopping. No matter what you say…I'll always care about you, Kyle, and that's why I worry. I want you to smile. All the time…so tell me what's going on…"

Kyle's heart beat with an unfamiliar pace and weight as he told Stan, "I'm sad…cause you are, Stan."

Stan blushed, still refusing to release Kyle's shoulder from his hand. Stan replied, "…what?'

Kyle flushed with red color furiously, he was so red in fact that Stan quite realized it and thought that his friend's fever was returning. Stan, though was terribly incorrect, as Kyle finally threw himself forward, onto Stan and quickly and strongly embraced him. Stan's heart pounded in his ears as his peripheral vision captured his daydreamed ushanka and Kyle muttered softly,

"I'm sad when you're sad, Stan…I can help as much as you can help worrying about me…I just care too much about you, and when I know you're confused and upset…I get the same way…so please, Stan…tell me what to do…tell me what to do to make you happy again; like you used to be."

Stan gripped Kyle back and smiled as he cuddled into the crook of Kyle's sweet smelling neck. He melted in the warm, silk skin of what Stan could feel of Kyle's neck and cheek as he replied,

"I want her back…"

Stan knew, that Kyle knew exactly who he was talking about. And although Stan hated himself for it, he knew Kyle had silently promised to get him the girl he had been dreaming of for so long.