A/N: I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER I'M SORRY.
I practically wrote myself into a corner and didn't know what to do. So now this story is going in a different direction on us all. In a way. You'll see what I mean.
Enjoy and SORRY FOR THE WAIT ;_;
Stan and Kenny sat in his and Kyle's apartment on the couch, staring blankly at the wall, both of them with folded hands between their knees. They'd sent Kyle who was far too shaken up to do much in the means of planning to bed. It'd been nothing but silence since they'd gotten back to the apartment almost three hours ago. Each passing moment felt like a heavy countdown to what almost felt like the inevitable.
The situation about them felt too bizarre, almost surreal. It hung over them as a thick cloud of despair, the air weighed down and tensive around them. The back part of Stan's mind couldn't help but wish he had his inhaler on him in all the mess.
"What about the police?" Stan finally offered quietly, staring over at the frazzled blonde.
He shook his head. "No. Because in all technicality, Ky's a prostitute," he looked back at him exhaustively. "I can't get him thrown in jail for this, Stan. I can't. I know he'd be safer there than with those fuckers looking for him but..." he trailed off, scratching at his hair irritably.
"Why don't we hide him?" he shrugged. "What if we take him somewhere and have him-"
"No," he bit sharply, shaking his head. "The first guy wasn't filmed, he just paid. He has that over us, he could go to the cops and it wouldn't take long for them to figure out what we've been up to and arrest Kyle."
Stan slunk down into the sofa and returned his sight back to the wall. "Fuck," he managed to breathe out. "I guess we're stuck with just finding the money then."
"No, Kyle and I are stuck with findin' the money," he grumbled tiredly. "You don't have to be a part of this."
Stan glared over at him, "Look, Ken," he bit firmly. "I know that this is killing your ego or whatever but I'm in this now, too. You really fucking think I can just go home and go 'oh they'll be fine, it's not my problem?'" He rolled his eyes, "You two are my best friends, I'm not gonna just sit back and let this shit happen without trying to help you."
A few moments of tense silence passed between the two of them before Kenny rose his eyes up to meet Stan's and he nodded slowly. "Okay," he whispered nearly inaudibly. Stan couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for how he handled that, this was obviously something that was pulling Kenny in every direction. He scooted over closer to Kenny on the couch and threw his arm around his shoulders gently.
"I know this is killing you," he said, forcing himself to adapt a much softer tone than the situation at hand was presenting him with. "We're gonna figure it out, all right? They won't touch him, I promise." Kenny just nodded, his teeth grating over his lip furiously.
"Guys?" a soft, timid voice popped up behind them. They whipped their heads around to see Kyle standing there at the doorframe of their bedroom, looking nothing short of utterly exhausted.
"Ky, go back to bed," Kenny urged.
He shook his head and made his way over to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of the blonde. "You really think that I can sleep right now?" he muttered, leaning into Ken's side. He looked up at his boyfriend worriedly. "Kenny...what are we gonna do?"
He shook his head slowly, "I...I have no idea."
Kyle's sharp eyes flickered to Stan before looking back up at him embarrassedly. "Maybe we should just use...the phone," he winced.
Stan raised his brow, looking between the two of them confusedly. "The phone?"
Kenny groaned and leaned back against the sofa, beating his head against the back lightly. "Kyle I don't want you to-"
"What the fuck other choice do we have at this point, Ken?" he snapped a bit. "I mean, fuck, I don't want me to either but right now we're up shit creek."
"What phone?!" Stan repeated.
Kyle looked at him and sighed heavily. "We have one of those pay-by-the-minute phones for...uh..." he blushed and bit his lip a bit, his leaf-green eyes flickering down to his lap shyly.
"Customers," Kenny finished exhaustively. "They text if they want time with Kyle or sometimes we just take the initiative if we're in a particularly bad time."
"Can't get much worse than it is," Kyle mumbled quietly, getting to his feet and heading over to their kitchen. Stan watched confusedly as he tore open a drawer and shuffled around down in it, pulling a small black phone out and bobbing it in his hand tiredly. He brushed his hair back a bit and pulled it open, turning and leaning against the cabinets. "Lucky me," he grumbled. "I have about ten callers tonight."
"Kyle you can't-" Kenny started before being shot down with a furious gaze from the small redhead.
"What the hell do I do then, Kenny?" he spat. "It's either go suck these people off, get raped tomorrow by those fuckers, or go to jail. Unfortunately, one of those things is a lot better sounding than the others."
Kenny's face fell miserably into his palms and he shook his head, tilted down at the floor. "Jesus fucking Christ," he whimpered.
Stan just looked, awe-struck as he glanced between the two of them. This almost seemed backwards. Kenny was breaking, Kyle was trying to figure out the problem and was willing to do anything to do it. Kyle sighed again and continued glancing through the phone, his thumbs flying along the pads anxiously. He shut it and walked back over to the couch, sitting down on the arm and running his fingers gently through Kenny's hair.
"It'll be okay," he said softly.
"No it fucking won't!" Kenny refused to lift his head out of his hands.
"We...we'll figure it out," Kyle said in a croaking voice. "We always do. We're gonna be just fine, Kenny. I promise."
Kenny finally looked up and stared at him in disbelief. "Kyle I don't give a fuck about the money. I don't care about 'us', I care about you."
"He's right," Stan interjected. "Kyle, you're going to just end up getting seriously hurt."
He blinked at the two of them before shrugging a bit and running his fingers through his hair. "Well, unless one of you has a better idea that'll get us what we need in about..." he glanced over at the clock and groaned irritably, "20 hours, then I think we just have to live with what's happening right now."
"You shouldn't be living like this period," Stan sighed. Tired blue eyes raised up to meet the redhead's and he bit his lip. He knew better, though. All three of them knew better. They had no alternatives, it was just going to have to happen. "I'm sorry you have to do this, Kyle. I really wish I could help you."
His shoulders slumped and he continued running his fingers through Kenny's golden hair. "It's fine, Stan. We got ourselves into it, one day we'll find a way out." He paused as a flurry of beeps fell in through the room, glancing at the phone and frowning in disgust.
"What is it?" Kenny asked softly.
"Sent them a group message, told 'em whoever offered the most I'd come see them," he muttered, reading over the texts. He sighed and shuddered a bit, "Guess I'm off to downtown." he stood and walked over to their bedroom, beginning to strip out of his pajamas and back into his jeans.
"How...how much?" Kenny asked.
"Two hundred," Kyle replied. "It's not all we need but it's a start. Maybe I can find another two willing to pay that much tonight."
Kenny got to his feet and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around him gently. "I'm so sorry," he said quietly, rubbing his face in his red hair. "God, Ky, I'm so sorry."
Kyle pulled back and pressed his lips against Kenny's gently. "It'll be okay," he forced a smile across his pale face, brushing some of Ken's hair back. "I'll be fine. Let's just...just let me get this over with and maybe that factory you applied for will call you back," he sniffled a bit, his eyes glossing over with tears. "Maybe...maybe we'll both get lucky and this'll be the last time I ever have to do this, hm?" he leaned up and kissed him again, pulling back with heavy trembles erupting throughout his system.
"Want me to come with you?"
He shook his head. "No. You stay here and see if you two can figure out any other way to get what we need, or get some sleep, you both need it..." he paused and took a deep breath, "This is that one guy on 7th, he's not dangerous," he shrugged. "Plus it's usually quick so I can find someone else fairly shortly." Kenny looked away from him and bit his lip, his eyes swimming with tears. Kyle grabbed his face and pulled him down, staring deep into his eyes. "Kenny, I'll be fine," he said firmly. "I love you," he said, kissing him once more before pulling out of his grip and walking towards the door. "I'll text you in about...," he glanced at the time once more, "forty minutes. If I don't, I'm going to be at his usual place. You know what to do."
Kenny nodded solemnly as Stan just sat there flabbergasted. They had a goddamn system. They had repeat customers that Kyle knew their addresses just by their fucking texts. Jesus fucking Christ it was like watching a dirty business meeting unfolding before his eyes.
"I love you," Kenny whispered.
Kyle smiled softly at him before turning and walking out, shutting the door behind him quietly. The silence echoed around the two left in the apartment, Stan looking back and seeing Kenny doing everything in his power to keep himself under control.
"He...he does that every time you know," he murmured.
Stan cocked his head a bit, "Does what?"
He shook his head, his eyes never leaving the door. "Every goddamn time he says 'maybe this will be the last one'..." he paused, grating his lip between his teeth. "When the fuck is it going to actually be the last one, Stan?" he asked, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.
Stan's shoulders heaved, barely able to make himself believe the fact that he'd just watched his best friend walk out the door to fuck some stranger. "I don't know, Kenny," he finally replied.
"I mean fuck!" Ken continued, walking in front of him and pacing around on the living room carpet. "Every goddamn minute that he's not out with some fucker we're applying for jobs! Why the hell will no one help us? Why are we this fucking low on the fucking totem pole I mean-" he stopped, his chest heavily rising and falling as he stared at the ceiling. "Why us?" he whispered, looking back at Stan with devastated eyes. "What the fuck did we even do?"
Stan's mouth gaped a bit at him. He wasn't used to Kenny of all people being emotionally distraught. He usually brushed everything that went wrong off with nothing more than a sneer and a smartass remark. This was uncharted territory. He knew how to handle Kyle when he started getting emotional, when he thought the world was collapsing on top of him, but Kenny? Not so much.
He bit his lip, watching as Kenny stared back at him with a pleading gaze, like maybe Stan held the one phrase that would save them. "I don't know what to tell you," he whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong. Things just aren't working out right now. They'll get better, I promise."
Kenny's shoulders drooped and he sniffled a bit, looking down at the carpet and rubbing his eyes with his jacket sleeve. "God I hope you're right," he sniveled.
Stan just stared back at him, a heavy feeling sinking in his chest. He knew the words of warm, lathering comfort were nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction to the situation. He had no idea where things would go from here. He hadn't the slightest clue of what could possibly be around the corner for the two of them.
He hoped that he was right, too.
Kenny's leg bounced impatiently as he stared at the clock. Stan looked at a notepad in his hand, a bold title of 'Ideas' strewn across the top margin. So far, nothing had come to fruition in the list. It seemed nearly hopeless.
"Where is he?" Kenny shook a bit, looking down at the phone in his hand. "He's always fucking punctual to the minute!"
"Calm down, calm down," Stan cooed. "I'm sure he...just got caught up," he winced. He knew that Kenny would have none of that, and he wasn't so sure that he could either. He knew Kyle well enough to know that if he said he'd get in contact with you at a certain time, he always would come Hell or high water. "It's only about ten minutes past what he said," he tried to calm his nerves. "It's okay."
"And if it's not?" he looked at Stan with a steely blue glare.
He paused and shrugged, "Kyle said 'you know what to do', didn't he?"
He nodded, getting to his feet.. "Yeah. Yeah I need to go find this person's apartment again." he sighed and looked down at Stan exhaustively. "You can either come or you can crash here," he said softly.
The noirette rolled his eyes and stood up beside him, "What the fuck do you think I'm gonna do?"
Kenny attempted a small smirk, "I was just giving you the option is-" he paused as a tone rang through the living room and they both slumped in relief. Kenny glanced down, his momentary relaxation fading off his face despairingly fast and Stan could feel the beginnings of panic starting to settle into the room.
"Ken?"
"'Sunset Motels, room 58. Come get your whore.'" he read before looking at Stan, whose face fell as deeply as his own. "Fuck!" he snarled, quickly running towards the door and ripping it open. Stan was on him like fire on a match as they headed down the apartment complex, their feet pounding against the blacktop and echoing around them in the dead of night.
"Where is Sunset?" Stan asked breathlessly.
"'Down the road about two miles, can we use your truck?!" Kenny looked at him desperately.
"Yeah, come on," he jerked his head and they veered off towards the parking lot, Stan's fingers fumbling in his jeans pocket and grabbing his keys. They ran up to his hand-me-down green pick up and he hurriedly unlocked the doors for the both of them, each clambering quickly into their respective sides. Stan didn't so much as think before slamming the key into the ignition and tearing out of the parking lot, both of their eyes trained desperately on the road.
"Fuck fuck fuck!" Kenny screamed, slapping his hand against the dashboard. "I knew I should've gone with him! Goddammit!"
"I thought he said this guy wasn't dangerous!" Stan raised his brow.
"Apparently we thought wrong," Kenny gritted his teeth. "Probably didn't do anything before because I was always there. Guess he didn't want a wit...ness..." the word hit them both like a ton of bricks. "Stan...hurry. For the love of fuck get us there as fast as you fucking can!" he plead.
Stan slammed his foot down onto the acceleration, speeding past a stop sign and reflexively glancing in his mirror for the cops. "Where is it?"
"Past Shakey's about two blocks, we should be there in a minute," Kenny replied in a daze, grabbing onto the handle of the passenger side door. "Oh god, Stan what if they-"
"No!" Stan cut him off. "He's fine, Kenny. We're going to get there and he's going to be fine. Maybe he just fell asleep after. Maybe...maybe..." he couldn't think of any other possibilities that didn't result in the thing that the two of them feared most.
"There!" Kenny pointed to a sign coming up on the horizon. "Jesus fucking Christ, hurry!" he yelled in a blind panic. Stan sped towards it, only releasing the acceleration as they approached the parking lot, braking harshly and listening with Kenny to the tires squeal as he managed to make a sharp turn into the lot. He threw the truck into park sprawled out along four parking spaces and they both leaped out.
"Room 58, right?!" Stan asked.
"Right," he confirmed, sprinting down towards the east side of the building. They ran along the side, staring at room numbers, finding 58 on the second floor. They rushed up the metal staircase and Kenny threw open the door.
Both of them scanned around, finding Kyle sitting on the sides of his legs naked on the bed, handcuffed to the metal headboard, a blindfold and gag around his head. The boy's head sharply turned towards them and they could make out a muffled 'Kenny?' under the fabric shoved into his mouth.
"Kyle, oh god," Kenny breathed out brokenly, rushing over to him and diving onto the bed. He ripped off the blindfold, revealing a black eye beginning to form under his brow and the blonde scowled viciously. He tore out the gag, sending Kyle into a coughing fit, his tongue darting out of his mouth as he tried to remoisten it. "Kyle, what happened?" he asked, looking around for a key to the handcuffs.
"He...he didn't want to pay," Kyle wheezed. "New guy..." he coughed again. Stan rushed over to the bathroom, grabbing one of the motel's plastic cups from the shelving beside the sink and filling it with water. He hurried back over to Kyle and tipped it towards his lips. Kyle blinked at it for a moment in a daze before accepting it past his teeth, drinking it down hurriedly. He licked his lips and looked up at Stan with a forced crooked smile, "Thanks."
"What do you mean 'new guy'?" Stan asked him, helping Kenny look around for the key.
"After...after the first one." Kyle closed his eyes trying desperately to collect his thoughts. "We finished really quick and he paid then h-he told me he found someone else for me. Called him and everything and told me to meet him here..." his shoulders slumped and he took a wavering breath. "We finished and he caught me off guard when he hit me...," he paused and bit his lip. "He took the money," he whispered. "He took the goddamn $200 that the first guy gave me..." he looked up at Ken with teary eyes. "Kenny I'm so sorry."
Ken tore his head away from his searching and launched forward, wrapping his arms around his frail form. "No. No, Kyle. Don't you fucking be sorry, I'm just so fucking glad you're alive," he shuddered and hugged him tighter, kissing his neck. "We'll figure it out, okay?"
Kyle sniffled and nodded against him, nestling into his blonde hair and cuddling against his shoulder. Stan stared at the two of them, a part of him fucking amazed at them. They were so strong together in this. They were worried about nothing else but each other in the whole mess. Fuck, Stan figured this would be something that would blow any couple apart, but their reserve with each other was definitely something admirable.
Stan definitely knew that a Super Best Friends with benefits situation was never going to happen now, regardless of the situation they were thrown into. If those two ever split up, it'd be the first sign of the apocalypse at this rate.
He blinked out of his thoughts and kept looking around the room. "Ky, do you know where he put the key?"
He shook his head, "He blindfolded me first, but I think I heard him opening a drawer?" he winced. "I'm not sure, I was panicking a lot."
Kenny ran his fingers through his red hair and kissed his forehead. "We'll find it, hang on," he got off the bed and started tearing through the dresser drawers as Stan took the nightstand. Kyle watched the both of them, straightening up and glancing around, his face dropping.
"Did...did he take my fucking clothes?!" he shrieked.
They both scanned around the floor and Kenny let out an aggravated groan. "Yeah, Kyle. I think he did."
The boy's shoulders drooped and he leaned back against the railing confining him, staring up at the ceiling. "Great. What a night," he groaned, beating his head softly against the wall behind him. He looked down and over at Stan and took a heavy breath. "Stan?"
"Yeah, Ky?" he asked, still rummaging, throwing a copy of the Bible out of his way. He definitely did not need to see something religious and clean while his best friend was sitting naked on the bed after having sex for money. Mary Magdalene or not, Jesus probably wouldn't think that was okay.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. Stan looked at him and raised his brow and he elaborated, "I'm sorry that you got dragged into this. Trust me, I never wanted you to know. Obviously," he shifted around uncomfortably, his exposed self just feeling like way too much to handle right now.
"Well this isn't something I particularly wanted to know either," Stan gave him a small chuckle. "But I'm glad that I'm here to try to help you at least," he shrugged, turning back to his search. "At least now you have two people to punch someone's face in if they try to hurt you," he said softly.
Kyle opened his mouth to say something but opted to just sigh again, letting his eyes drop onto the comforter beneath him, scowling at some of the residue left from the man he'd been with. "I hate this," he muttered under his breath.
"Huh?" Stan raised his brow at him again.
"Found it!" Kenny announced, holding it in the air and rushing over to Kyle's side. "Your phone is in there, too, so at least we don't have to worry about him going to the cops," he kissed his cheek as he undid each of his wrists. Kyle hissed a bit and brought his arms around, rubbing the skin gently. Kenny slid off his parka and wrapped it around his shoulders lovingly. Kyle sighed, slipping his arms through the sleeves and zipping it up on his skinny form.
"This is one of the few times I'm glad you're taller than me," he smirked a teeny bit. Kenny gave him a small one back and pecked his lips as Stan moved to sit on the edge of the bed while Kyle continued rubbing his raw skin, letting one hand come up to his face, his fingers genially touching his shiner and he winced. "Well that's going to take a few weeks to get better," he mumbled miserably.
"Kyle what did you say earlier?"
He looked at him confusedly before letting out a soft 'oh'. "I said I hate this," he shrugged. "I just wish we could get jobs like real people instead of me...well...doing this," he gestured to himself. "It sucks, Stan. It just...it really really sucks," he looked at him pathetically.
He nodded, "I can imagine."
Kyle chuckled humorlessly and shook his head at him. "No. No you can't even begin to imagine it. I just hope we get jobs soon and well paying ones because I'll probably need therapy to start repressing all this bullshit," he drooped exhaustively and went back to staring at the comforter. "I can't believe I lost the money," he bit his lip and growled.
"Hey," Kenny said, brushing his hair back. "It's okay. There's got to be something we can do...maybe someone owes us a favor that we're not thinking of."
"Yeah but who would have what we need and be willing to just hand it over like that?" Stan questioned leaning his chin into his palm.
Kyle was silent, staring at the blanket still. He could feel the rubbed, reddened skin of his wrists, his eye heating from where the man decked him. He could feel his body stretched and still quaking with the after-effects of his violation. He let out a heavy sigh and looked between the two of them and shook his head. They watched him curiously as he muttered, "There's only one person in the world who we can get to help us right now..." he paused and bit his lip, growling under his breath, "But I'm willing to bet it's going to cost me a lot more than a measly $600."
A/N: WHO IS THIS MYSTERY MAN KYLE SPEAKS OF- okay yeah you already know who the fuck it is.
He'll be around next chapter, which won't take four years, I promise.
Until next time! Thanks for R&Ring!