Kyle woke without Stan present; he turned over and out from beneath the warm blanket. The house was still darkened by the lurking, dark fog outside. He scratched his fingers through his loose curls messily as he walked through the livingroom to the kitchen. He looked around and called out in his raspy morning-voice, "…Stan?"

There was no reply.

"…Stan? Where are you?"

He watched as Stan entered the kitchen from behind him; reading an untitled book as he entered. Kyle stood in shock as Stan read aloud,

"I fear, too early: for my mind misgives
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date
With this night's revels and expire the term
Of a despised life closed in my breast
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen!"

Kyle immediately snatched his journal back and snarled, "W-Why were you going through my stuff, you snake?!"

Stan snickered, "Don't be so pissy, Romeo, I was bored and reading some of your books. I didn't know you wrote old English…poetry…"

Kyle turned away bashfully, replying, "I didn't write it. William Shakespeare wrote it; it was just a passage stuck in my head. I decided to write it down."

"Stuck in your head?...you mean…you memorized that?"

Kyle blushed more heavily as he told Stan, "Well…yeah…"

Stan smirked, shocked as he stated, "That's…like…sick, dude…"

Kyle smiled at the lingo-drowned compliment just as Stan added with a chuckle, "I mean…totally gay, but…still pretty cool."

"I give my thanks, sir." Kyle replied in a slight British accent

Stan tried to imitate the sophisticated accent and told Kyle, "By no means, Sir Kyle, you need not give me thanks for your wonderfully executed literary knowledge; despite the utter homosexuality that may be judged by which."

Kyle cocked his eyebrow, fixed his hand on his popped hip before he said, "That, Stanley made no sense, me thinks, though, I shall endow you leeway and convince you thus forth that my leisure pursuit effects not my significant other's gender. May I begin by having it known that I do not approve of your judgmental state and whence another time arises that mine sexuality is questioned I shall have at you. Possibly with an eating utensil. Or something ignited. It shall depend on how creative I am feeling, but have you no doubts I shall extract my revenge when you least expect it!"

Stan didn't know how to compete, but retorted, "Your preferences of which you've fooled me to believe are of no significance to me, as you well know that I am indecisive and I must inform you that rather than feeling taken back I am curious to know whom you would choose to perform on if your options were limited to myself, Sir McCormick or Sir Cartman."

Kyle rolled his eyes, replying simply, "Cartman is hardly a sir. He is a monster at the most dignified, so please, Sir Marsh, don't be foolish. As I have no attachment to our acquaintance Kenneth, I would not wish to extract anything from him. So I suppose, if put in the situation, I would choose to play lover to you."

Stan's heart thumped as he quickly rose his voice, "You mean to say I appeal to you?"

Kyle immediately stammered, "Y-you interpret me incorrectly, Sir. I never said anything of the like!"

Stan stepped closer to the now insecure Kyle; the candles and television remaining their only lighting. He replied,

"I do not misinterpret you, Sir. I happen to have spotted many holes in your repetitive argument that you are as a toothpick! I have gathered your declarations on several accounts that your emotions are perfectly in sync with mine own, thus you must be just as confused as I! And if you claim not—"

"Halt in your pursuit immediately, Sir! I have made no such declarations in which I have seeked being found to enjoy others as myself!"

"I beg to differ! You have set up a stage in which your protagonist role has willingly led me to my social demise! I put forth this argument, in truth, to erupt truth from you! Now out with your elusive true self or I shall force it out of you!" Stan insisted

"No, I shall not! I will do no such thing; discuss no such topic with you! I know not why you have turned to me as this, sir, but I refuse to play along casually! I will have you know that I am appalled by your words tonight and I will walk away as such!"

Before Kyle could storm away, Stan grabbed him by his wrist. Stan didn't know what he was doing, overcome with perverse lust that lingered after his graphic dream. Kyle dropped his journal as he was forcefully pulled back to Stan. Kyle's hand was pulled behind and upward of Stan's shoulder, their chests just meeting; Kyle was slanted with weak knees, simply looking up to his friend with wide eyes. Stan's bedroom eyes made Kyle want to run; he didn't know why Stan would look at him in such a way and that fear returned. That fear that Stan would kiss him. That awful screeching of his heart…

"You will not run from me. For if you run I will think it in fear and that is the last thing I would ever want between us. I want you to return my gaze and I want you to stay very still."

Kyle did not move. His jade eyes were swimming in Stan's; Stan's eyes shown like a night-time ocean, fogged with a hunger Kyle could not recognize. Kyle's free hand was resting against Stan's chest, just under his shoulder; Stan leaned down a little, recapturing all of Kyle's attention. Kyle could feel Stan's words brushing against his lips as Stan asked softly,

"You will not run?"

"I swear." Kyle replied

Kyle didn't know why they were continuing to use old English, but he thought that maybe it was easier for Stan to admit these things if it felt as if they were pretending, or joking around.

"Please…don't move…I want to see…if I may pursue you…"

As Kyle's face began to glow red, his heart pumped painfully with anticipation and fanciful romance, Stan leaned in ever closer. Slowly Stan was approaching him; at first Stan wore his eyes low, to perhaps see if Kyle would stop him. Kyle's mind was racing with questions he couldn't catch at such a fast rate, his body was pulsating with anxiety. He hadn't been kissed since they were eight, and that was Bebe Stevens. As if that meant anything to him. But here was his best friend—Super Best Friend---the only person who ever understood his sensitivity, his ambitions and rationality. His best friend…only friend, if you will. The only person he actually enjoyed in this Godforsaken pit of Colorado.

Stan was slowly growing closer and Kyle wanted to object, he wanted to call out and end Stan's advancements, but he only got so far as to part his lips not a centimeter from each other. Only a moment after did Stan gently, almost intimidatedly press his lips against Kyle's. Kyle wanted to think rationally, push Stan away, but he had promised Stan he wouldn't. He promised Stan he would remain still. So he did. He found, though, that Stan's soft lips pressing so timidly against his own weighed heavy on his eyes, and he eventually closed them and returned Stan's shy pressure. Stan seemed encouraged by Kyle's return and let go of Kyle's dainty wrist, allowing him the option to push away. Kyle, though, didn't even realize his hand had been set free until he felt himself tug on Stan's silk hair when Stan ran his tongue over Kyle's lips.

Kyle gripped Stan's collar nervously as he slowly parted his lips completely, allowing Stan to enter. Kyle knew that from the many years of going back and forth from dating Wendy Testaburger, Stanley Marsh would know a thing or two about kissing passionately; this only proved to make Kyle more nervous. Kyle didn't want to discourage Stan, he didn't want Stan to get upset, so he did not stop Stan running his fingers through Kyle's long, tangerine curls, and he did not stop Stan from pulling him closer, pressing their chests together and he certainly did not stop Stan from dominating the kiss, as Kyle was pathetically new to this. Scared of stopping him, the only thing he did to warn Stan that he needed to stop and catch his breath was let out a small whimper which instantaneously stopped Stan's attack on Kyle's mouth.

Once Stan let his lips fall away from Kyle's, they both breathed heavily, gathering all the air they could. Stan's heart was racing and it began bumping even harder against his ribcage when he saw Kyle's scarlet face, pink slightly swollen lips and teary eyes. Stan asked sensitively, "…are you okay?"

Kyle knew that Stan was regarding the tears building up in his eyes and replied, "Y-yeah…it was just…just all a bit new and…overwhelming…"

Kyle's hands were pressed to his upper-chest, his fingers curled as he closed his eyes; gathering himself. Stan watched, still breathing heavily and he wondered…what this made him and Kyle. Did this make them less than friends? Did this make them more than Super Best Friends? Did it make them…lovers?

"Kyle…I-I ne—"

Kyle interrupted, "Do we need to talk about it?"

Stan was taken aback a little by the rushed reaction of his friend, but when he saw Kyle looking as if he was in pain to the hardwood floor, his heart ached. He looked away and told Kyle, "…no…we don't need to."

Kyle ignored Stan's emphasis on "need" and turned away, murmuring, "…I'm going to go take a shower…"

Stan didn't say anything, only listened to his heart beating in crushed pain against his ribcage as he watched his friend walk away and practically run up the stairs. There was nothing else Stan could ask of him now.