This is based off of my relationship with my boyfriend... Sort of.

My apologies for the choppy start. Title taken from Nickelback. I AM NOT NICKELBACK, BTW.

OoO

PDA- Chapter One: How You Remind Me

It's been three days.

Three agonizing days.

What happened? I'll tell you what happened.

Stan and I were hanging out as usual, messing around and all, and I happened to bring up my sore back.

He went about alleviating my pain in an invasive manner that ended with us making out.

I'm not sure how it happened either.

Don't give me that look! If you want to know exactly what happened, go read the goddamn prologue. Jesus Christ, people.

I haven't seen him since then, and that's completely my fault. Now, before I go on, I'd like to make a shameful announcement: I am a fucking tease. I can talk big all day long-and apparently I can suggest making out with my best friend-but when it comes right down to it, I'm inexperienced and the only boyfriend I've ever had I never even kissed because he lived out of state-I met him on World of Warcraft. Digressing. I do not have the balls to follow through. T-E-A-S-E.

And apparently, Stan was not having it.

After recovering from the shock of holy shit Stan is kissing me I tried pushing him away, but he wasn't paying attention, and he shoved his hand up my shirt and I froze up, terrified. Totally my fault. Anyway, mom picked that glorious moment to walk in, greeted by the sight of her bubbe's best friend kissing her scared-looking son while seemingly trying to touch as much skin as possible.

Before either of us could get a word in edge-wise, she had literally thrown Stan out, screaming hysterically about him 'raping her poor innocent son'. She then proceeded to ground me for participating in 'heavy petting' sessions with someone I wasn't actively dating. I want to live a day in this woman's mind, seriously.

Regardless, I had no way of contacting my super-best.

For three whole fucking days.

So I agonized. I can't even remember the details, just mindless agonizing and analyzing. The irrational part of my brain screamed that he hated me now, while the more logical part retorted that Stan would always be my super-best, and then the irrational part sneered that everything would be awkward because Stan was straight, and then the doubtful part interjected, "Is Stan straight?" and the irrational part went into a horrible mental break down thinking that Stan is gay and wants me, and then the logical part interrupted with, "So what if he's gay? Isn't that a good thing?" and then the curious part of my brain started pondering the ramifications of Stan being gay. Then my inner romantic started spazzing out over the prospect of dating Stan as my inner Tweek screamed about OMIGOD TOO MUCH PRESSURE and then finally common sense looks at me, sitting all scared-looking in the corner, and said, "Hey, wait up, what do you want?"

And I didn't have an answer for it.

Over. And over. And over. And over.

Sometimes God's great gift of intelligence is damning.

But that's okay, because in ten minutes I'm ungrounded. Then I can go see Stan and we can try and talk it out. Right? Right.

OoO

Even after I expressly forbid him from The Cure, Metallica, Simple Plan, Play Dead and Crown of Autumn, the key to figuring out if Stan had done It again was still what song he played, whether or not the song was on repeat, and whether or not the subject matter related back to recent events.

Or you can listen for the chords of How You Remind Me and assume he's heartbroken. Whatever works.

I groaned as I recognized the chorus of that tell-tale song. Kenny plays Ozzy Osborune as loud as he can, Eric puts Rammstein on, I put on Disturbed, and Stan blasts How You Remind Me on repeat. I keep meaning to ask him why.

I stared up at his thrown-open window, hoping that it was a sign that he hadn't resorted to It yet. Rubbing my temples to hopefully ward off the fast-approaching migraine tightening behind my eyes, I hurried my footsteps towards the door, out of the cold, glancing back at the sinking sun and sighing.

It's been years since I last felt the need to actually knock on the Marsh's door. Stepping inside, I slid my jacket off my shoulders and hung it on one of the hooks along the wall. I could still hear the beat of the song, prompting another eye-roll. I stuffed my frozen fingers into my pockets, glancing around to find Stan's parents. "Sharon?" I called tentatively, knowing she didn't like for people to call for her instead of looking for her, but that worry was eased as she appeared in the stairway with wide, pained eyes and exclaimed as quietly as possible, "I thought he wasn't seeing that Wendy girl these last couple of weeks!"

I grimaced, stepping forward to embrace her quickly, muttering guiltily, "This one's my fault, sorry." She patted the top of my hat and pressed my cheek against her shoulder, responding just as quietly, "Just fix it, sweetheart. Kenny's already up there, I'll shoot him a text..."

I met Kenny outside of Stan's door. The music was clear as day now.

"This is how you remind me of what I really am. This is how you remind me of what I really am. It's not like you to say sorry, I was waiting on a different story. This time I'm mistaken for handing you a heart worth breaking, and I've been wrong, I've been down, been to the bottom of every bottle. These five words in my head, scream, 'Are we having fun yet?'"

Damn good music.

"Dude!" Kenny whisper-shouted, drawing his hood up as he shut the melodramatic teen's bedroom door behind himself. "What the fuck? He's torn to pieces over you and where have you been?"

I cringed. Kenny can be scary when he's upset. "I was grounded." I explained quickly. He shot me a ludicrous look and I elaborated shortly, "For 'participating in heavy petting sessions with someone I wasn't actively dating'."

He snorted. I shrugged in a whatcha-gonna-do? manner and he clapped me on the back. "Just fix it dude." he muttered as he pushed past me.

"It's not like you didn't know that, I said I love you and I swear I still do. And it must have been so bad, cause living with me must have damn near killed you, and this is how you remind me of what I really am. This is how you remind me of what I really am. It's not like you to say sorry..."

I used to like this song. It was my favorite growing up. Now it makes me cringe. Shaking my head, I pushed the door open carefully, peeking into the room.

I couldn't suppress a groan of irritation. All of Stan's rock posters had been replaced with a collection of particularly disheartening demotivational posters. One nearby read DEPRESSION: Some days you wake up feeling great, and full of freedom. But you haven't had one of those days in a long time. Maybe never. The room was lit with candles, the dresser and his desk had been cleared of all knick-knacks, and the biggest give away of them all: Stan was wearing chain-draped, oversized black cargo pants and a black tank top over fishnets.

Goddammit, he went Goth.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation, staring idly at the teen moping face down on the bed, probably trying to passively suffocate himself. Thinking quickly, I crept over to his iPhone doc, typing in the password-5953-and tapping over to his music collection. Artists, N, Nickelback, Dark Horse...

Steady guitar filled the room and I nodded absently to the beat as I turned the volume down to a reasonable level. Stan groaned unhappily, whining into his bedspread, "Kenny... I was listening to that..."

"Just one more moment... That's all that's needed... Like wounded soldiers... In need of healing... Time to be honest... This time I'm pleading... Please don't dwell on it... Cause I didn't mean it..."

I made my way over to his bed, noting with vague amusement that he'd even put black blankets on his bed. Nothing if not thorough. I sat carefully, reaching out to thread my fingers through his silky black locks and absently mouthing the next couple lines.

"I can't believe I said I'd lay our love on the ground, but it doesn't matter 'cause I made it up. Forgive me now, everyday I spend away, my soul's inside out, gotta be some way that I can make it up to you now, somehow..."

He surprised me a little by shifting to bury his face in my lap, muttering tearfully over the music, "He won't even talk to me, Ken. I scared him so bad he won't even answer my calls..."

"By now you know that-"

I joined in singing. "I'd come for you, no one but you, yes I'd come for you, but only if you told me to."

His head snapped up in shock, revealing the mascara tear tracks running down his face and slightly smudged black lipstick. "And I'd fight for you, I'd lie-it's true. Give my life for you, you know I'll always come for you."

The music continued to play but I let my singing trail off, finding much more amusement in my super-best's gaping. "Sorry dude." I murmured with a small smile fighting its way onto my lips, "I was grounded."

'Grounded.' he mouthed slowly, a blush creeping across his face. He sat up quickly, looking around the room in embarrassment. "Oh my god." he muttered in a mixture of relief and humiliation.

He whipped his head around to look at me with hope in his eyes. "Does that mean you don't hate me for molesting you?" he asked timidly. Stan, timid. How I wish I had a camera.

I shook my head. "You didn't molest me, dude, you just spooked me a little. And I couldn't hate you if I tried."

He practically wilted in relief, putting his head in his hands and giggling in a hysterical, bordering-on-crying manner. "You have no idea how good that is to hear." he muttered, lifting his head to reveal his grin.

I smiled back, only to cringe as his glee faltered. "So I guess we should talk about this?" he asked shyly, dropping his eyes to his hands. My mouth suddenly felt dry and I cleared my throat harshly, dropping my gaze as well.

"I guess we should." I agreed grudgingly.

OoO

To be honest, I'm really, really used to walking up to the bus stop and seeing strange things. Sometimes I feel like I've spent most of my time alive standing there, talking to the guys, dying unexpectedly and waiting for that damn bus.

But I honestly never thought I'd see this.

Two lone figures stood side by side like they had since second grade, with one key difference I hadn't seen since they were seven.

Their hands. Stan's big red mitten wrapped around Kyle's little green gloves.

Oh, wow.

I stepped carefully around them to properly take in the scene. I don't think they noticed me-I've learned to be pretty quiet, and they seemed distracted. Stan was staring deliriously up at the sky, a joyful, stunned smile stuck on his lips, while Kyle stared at his feet, a hot blush splashed across his cheeks.

"How cute." I commented, a grin working it's way onto my lips. "It's about fucking time!"

Kyle jumped and tried to hide his face in his taller companion's arm, face practically lighting on fire, but Stan just turned his beam on me, pointing to the boy with his unoccupied hand in a manner that screamed, "Look what I've got!"

I snorted, nodding with an indulgent smile. Kyle continued to try and convince me that he didn't exist and I decided to let them be for the moment, taking up my spot next to an extremely pleased jock.

OoO

"Thank god fatass isn't here today." Kyle sighed nervously as we took our seat on the bus. He shot me an anxious glance out of the corner of his eyes, blushing slightly as he almost imperceptibly moved farther away from me. I just grinned, though, grabbing his hand and ignoring his indignant, "Dude!"

"Why? He's gonna find out eventually." I pointed out, rubbing at my cheeks absently. It hurt to smile so much. He shot me a little glare, glancing around to make sure that nobody was paying us much mind. For the first time since our little talk the night previous, my smile faltered a little.

Locking eyes with my new, erm, boyfriend (still seemed weird to say), I brought his hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to the middle of his palm, smiling reassuringly against the material of his thin cotton gloves. His cheeks flushed with color and he glanced around nervously, yanking his hand away and scolding shakily, "N-not in public, dude..."

I scowled at him. He scowled right back.

"... You expect this to be kept a secret." I deadpanned. His scowl deepened. "I thought that was obvious, Stanley!" he whisper-yelled, still weary of eaves-droppers. I rolled my eyes, shoving away from him and closer to the window, drawing one of my knees up to my chest defensively.

"Look." he sighed, guilt seeping into his tone. "Coming out to my parents has to be the single hardest thing I've ever done. But they're just two people, and they love me. But coming out to an entire school-scratch that, an entire town, that's a lot different." he explained, eyes fixed on his hands.

"I'm not worried about telling people we're dating." I muttered, a little confused. It dawned on me that I hadn't told my parents yet. Hm.

Kyle leaned forward with a heavy sigh, shoving his hands up under his stupid hat and clutching at the wild curls beneath. A wry smile curved his lips. "Yeah, dude, but you're an activist. You're all the time standing up for what you believe in by starting clubs to protect films or starting the town GBLT association because I'm gay or going to third world countries with Wendy to teach children how to read or saving baby cows. Telling people you're gay or bi or whatever you want to call it and using your surprisingly eloquent public speaking skills to verbally flip off your haters is just the kind of thing you'd do. Now, me?" he shook his head, knocking his hat sideways, "I can't handle it."

I chuckled a little, straightening out his hat. His shoulders tensed but he allowed me to touch him and rest my hand on his shoulder, commenting quietly, "You never did join the South Park GBLT community." He laughed shakily, rubbing his eyes and knocking his glasses askew. "Gay rights has been your thing since you were like, eight, dude." Kyle murmured. "I didn't want to intrude."

I pinched the bridge of my nose in fond exasperation. "That makes no sense."

He offered me a crooked grin and I couldn't help but smile back. I let a moment of silence pass before I spoke again. "So what are we gonna do?"

"Iono, dude." he sighed. I gave him a look and he grimaced, and, in order to placate me I guess, compromised, "Let's talk about it after school and decide then what we're gonna do, and play it cool until then. Okay?" His big green eyes bore into mine, the finality shining there not quite successful in overshadowing the panicked desperation flickering in his gaze. I nodded slowly. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

"Fantastic." he muttered, only a bit sarcastic.

And, for the first of many times, I wondered if he really wanted this.

OoO

Thank God we got through the day with nobody other than Kenny finding out. I-I just don't think I could handle the ridicule and hate from all my peers-I mean, jeez, you've gotta watch out for your own self esteem. I could tell it bothered Stan, though-he kept casting me these little wounded looks when I flinched away from him. I don't think he quite understands the intensity of homophobia in schools-

"Jesus Christ!" I yelped, almost toppling over as I spun around, ripped from my thoughts. Stan froze, giving me a ludicrous stare, hand still poised to tap me on the shoulder. I glanced around at the kids nearby -all of which were quite happily ignoring us- nervously, irrationally convinced that they all knew and-

"Dude, you okay?" Stan interrupted my thoughts once more, moving to stand beside me and bumping his shoulder into mine, prompting me to start walking. I could see Kenny up ahead, leaning against the School Zone sign, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "I'm okay." I mumbled shyly, putting a bit of distance between us subtly. Judging by the hurt look he tossed my way, though, I think he noticed.

"Hey Kenny." I muttered miserably as we reached him. He gave me a Look, too, and I cringed. Why am I making everybody so upset with me today?

"That was a dick move, Ky." Kenny commented cheerfully, grin in place. I knew he was serious, though, because he blew smoke at me. He knows I hate cigarette smoke.

"Shut up, Ken." Stan sighed, already starting to walk ahead of us. I frowned guiltily, catching up to the noirette to fall into step beside him. Kenny opted to trail behind us.

"Dude, I'm not trying to hurt you-"

"Kyle, do you want this?"

We both stopped. I stared at him. He stared back. He looked like he might cry.

"Stan-"

"Be honest."

We stared for a bit longer. His expressive blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears and the sight made me squirm.

"I want this." I stated firmly.

He didn't react at all. "Prove it." he demanded blankly.

I balked. "Prove it?"

"Prove it. Come out of the closet for me."

Jesus Christ, he was serious.

I could feel my cheeks heating up and I bowed my head a little, trying to hide my blush. "Dude, give me some time on this, it's not as easy as-"

"Kyle."

I caught his gaze again and I felt trapped.

Slowly, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his middle, burying my face in his chest. He made no move to return the hug, choosing instead to merely pinch the bridge of his nose. "Stan." I murmured lowly, probably a little inaudible. I sighed. Jesus Christ I do not want to do this... "... Let me tell my parents we're dating first. Tomorrow, alright?"

"Fine." he muttered, still sounding a bit upset. I flinched guiltily, withdrawing to sink into the aggravated pace he set.

"Dude." Kenny sighed, taking his place on the jock's other side. "You're asking for a fucking ton of a commitment for a half-day relationship."

I looked back at Kenny. He's really grown, I thought, tilting my head back to look up at his face properly. Physically and emotionally. He's become the person who voices what other people either won't say or don't notice. He looked tired. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I hadn't really talked to him in weeks.

Stan paused again, glaring over his shoulder at the blond. "I pour my heart and soul into everything I do." he growled softly, fists balled at his hips. "Anything less just isn't good enough." He sighed harshly, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "I'm gonna go talk to Gary, guys. Do whatever you've got to do, Ky. You've got until tomorrow morning."

"Jesus Christ." I sighed shakily, burying my face in my hands as Stan walked away, sulking. A heavy, warm arm draped over my shoulders and I leaned into Kenny's skinny form, allowing myself to be lead through town, towards home. "I don't think I'm ready to come out of the closet, Ken..." I muttered. The blond sighed long-sufferingly.

"You'll be fine, kid, alright? Don't worry about it. You've known all these kids since first and second grade, some of them since preschool. Most of them are just gonna rip on you a little and get bored. It wasn't a big deal when Butters came out, or Tweek or Heidi." he pointed out. I just groaned, rubbing my eyes.

After a few minutes of letting Kenny be my eyes, I muttered half-heartedly, "You okay man?"

"Hm?"

"You look tired. I woulda asked sooner but I've been busy, sorry..."

He laughed. "Don't worry, Kyle, you don't have to be on top of taking care of us all the time. I mean, jeez, you're already the only reason I'm ever where I'm supposed to be on time. I've just been having some trouble sleeping." he assured me, tugging me to a stop.

I lifted my head and glanced around in confusion. "Dude, this is Cartman's house." I pointed out. Kenny rolled his eyes. "Dude, you know how upset he gets when he gets information about you second hand. You should tell him."

"I don't wanna." I whined, pouting up at the amused teen. He shoved me gently in the direction of the house, chuckling, and started off in the direction of his own home.

"Christ." I whispered, staring up at the suddenly extremely intimidating South Park home. I forced myself to walk towards the door as calmly as I could, eyes wide with apprehension.

OoO

The moment Cartman saw his little Jew, he knew something big was up. He always did, really. He silently prided himself on knowing Kyle even better than the hippie, even if it did cause him daily anxiety that the opposite was also true. Goddamn Jew knew him better than what could possibly be healthy for anybody.

But digressing to the Jew standing awkwardly in his doorway, chewing on his sleeves and staring around at the various racist, sexist, and bigoted propaganda on the walls, fixing his eyes on the ceiling for several moments, where a gigantic swastika was painted. "What's up, Kahl?" he asked calmly, consciously forgoing any insults concerning his religion or sexual orientation. He was obviously upset enough.

"C-Cartman." the redhead stammered, edging further into the room and looking like he really, really didn't want to be there. The brunette smirked a little, gathering a bit of residual sadistic satisfaction from the teen's distress even as concern rose in his mind. "Dude, I, uh, I-I-"

He cut himself off, biting his lip in frazzled contemplation. Cringing somewhat, he glanced around to make sure they were alone-they were, obviously-and shut the door, locking it, before rushing over to the neo-nazi's windows and pulling the curtains. Cartman sighed. It was gonna be one of those heart-to-heart chats that they pretend they don't have. The last time they talked like this was when the brunette found out through Kenny that Kyle was gay. He'd thrown a hissy fit over not being told personally.

The Jew sat on the bed, staring at the big white lines that made up the pentagram design, and patted the space next to him, hunching his shoulders over. Heaving perhaps his greatest sigh yet, Cartman stood from his position sitting in his desk chair and moved to sit in front of the ginger, their knees pressed together gently. "What's wrong, Ky?" he asked softly, looking his rival directly in the eye.

No, they'd never tell anyone else about these moments.

"I can tell you anything, right?" he asked quietly, his big green eyes wide and trusting. "Of course." the larger teen muttered gruffly.

Kyle buried his face in his hands, groaning in distress. "Its kind of a long story, Eric, so don't ask questions, just accept everything I say. I made out with Stan and my mom walked in a threw him out for molesting me, then grounded me for forty-eight hours for 'participating in heavy petting sessions with someone I wasn't actively dating'. I couldn't contact Stan and you probably heard from Kenny that he went goth for a while. So I went to talk to him and we talked about what we were gonna do and now we're dating."

He let out a huge sigh of relief. Got that over with. Cartman stared at him blankly for several long seconds. "I knew it." he muttered finally, looking a little overwhelmed. Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a low keening noise before continuing miserably, "He wants me to come out as his boyfriend to the entire town tomorrow."

The brunette stared a little longer, rubbing at his temples and panicking a little when he noticed the little redhead's shoulders shaking slightly. "I'm not ready!" he gasped in a heartbreaking whimper, hugging his knees to his chest. Hesitantly, Cartman scooted around and placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him against his side. "Shh..." he crooned a little awkwardly. "Erm, there, there..."

Kyle giggled a little hysterically, keeping his face hidden in his knees. "What am I gonna d-do?" he muttered listlessly. "I'm not ready to become a... a full fledged, out-of-the-closet faggot, Eric..."

The brunette was silent for several long moments. "I'll talk to him." he promised after a silence. Kyle shook his head, opening his mouth to refuse but getting cut off. "I'll talk to him before school tomorrow, he's always more open-minded in the morning... And don't you dare tell me not to, I am talking to Stan about this."

Kyle shot up onto his knees and threw himself forward, latching his arms around Cartman's neck and burying his face in his messy brown locks. The neo-Nazi paused for a moment before wrapping his arms around the Jew's tiny waist and nuzzling into his chest, content to be close for a few moments. He felt a stray tear fall into his hair and pulled the redhead closer, humming softly in an attempt to soothe him.

OoO

After saying their semi-awkward goodbyes and exchanging the standard insults and Kyle thanking his rival, the redhead left to go talk to his parental units, feeling considerably more optimistic about tomorrow. When Cartman set his mind to something, he generally achieved it.

It gave him the confidence he needed to talk to his parents.

Stepping into the welcomed warmth of his house -despite summer break being a mere month away, it was still freezing out- he hung up his coat and his ushanka, sighing slightly. "Momma?" he called, "Dad? Can you guys meet me in the kitchen?"

Since a huge, two-week long argument between Sheila and her son in sixth grade, they had finally reached common ground. Their relationship now was filled with respect, honesty and lots of teasing. Kyle and his father had grown close over the years as well, but at heart the redhead was a momma's boy.

"Sure, Bubbe." the woman called cheerfully from the other room. Kyle smiled as he passed by his baby brother, patting him on the head and sending him up to his room with a quick threat of, "Wanna see if we can still play Kick the Baby?"

When he made it to the kitchen, his parents were already sitting around the table, sipping at fragrant mugs of coffee. "You want some, Kyle?" Gerald offered with a fond smile, aware of how much his son hated coffee. Predictably, the redhead shook his head, sitting down and deciding that today, he would forgo beating around the bush because the bush did not deserve to be beaten. "I've got an announcement to make." he stated firmly, voice surprisingly calm. He noticed his fingers were trembling and clenched his hands into determined fists.

His mother set down her coffee, smiling kindly. "Is this about Stan, Bubbe?" she asked neutrally. Gerald rose a brow at his wife before fixing a questioning stare on his son. What had happened between his boy and Randy's?

"Y-yeah." he admitted shakily, biting his lip. His mother's smile widened as she prompted, "And..?"

Kyle sucked in a breath. "We're dating."

Sheila clapped happily for her son while Gerald stared at him in silent disbelief. A moment later, his cellphone started ringing and, numbly, he answered it, pressing it to his ear. Randy's panicked voice filtered through, screeching, "Our sons are dating!" In the background the trio could hear Shelley spouting slurred insults, Sharon trying to calm her husband down and Stan proclaiming loudly that if his father had an issue with his faggotry, he could go fuck himself.

"I heard." Gerald whimpered.

OoO

Fifteen minutes later, Gerald had talked Randy down from panic, Kyle had calmed his laughter, and Sheila had made a list of New Rules that she pushed over to her son, waiting for him to read them.

Rule One: If I decide that Stanley isn't treating you well enough, I reserve the right to forbid you from seeing him.

Rule Two: Stanley is from here on out forbidden from sleeping in the same room as you.

Rule Three: I understand that you are teenage boys with hormones and wants, but Stanley will ask my and your father's permission before consummating your relationship.

Rule Four: Stanley will be required from here on out to join the family for important Jewish holidays. I will respect his family's decision on whether or not they want you to participate in their Christian holidays.

Kyle looked back up at his mom with a WTF expression and she colored a bit. "Just some ground rules." she explained. "Make sure Stanley is aware of them as well, Bubbe. Go do your homework."

Snorting at his mother's protectiveness, the teenager did as told, grabbing his backpack and heading upstairs to his room. He leaned back against his door, grinning nervously at his ceiling for several long moments before realizing with a jolt that it was sunset. He glanced over at his little yellow candle, happy to see that it was still burning, although it was almost burned out. He'd really never been one for prayer outside of the synagogue, but he spared a moment to pray for his great-grandmother and all the other victims before gently blowing out the flame of his Yom Hashoah candle.

Deciding to do his English homework during homeroom tomorrow, Kyle sank onto his bed, thinking vaguely that no matter what, tomorrow was going to suck.

OoO

So how was it? Be honest! And look for upcoming updates.

Special points to everyone who went ahead and listened to the mentioned songs.

And on the off off off chance someone happens to notice the adorable easter egg I put in here, first one to find it gets a prize.

QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS? REVIEW!