Chapter 8: The Walls Came Tumbling Down
It hadn't been anything. They'd just been goofing off, messaging each other stupid junk back and forth, when suddenly Stan had started typing some… unsavory things.
Not that Gary minds—well, not anymore. The first time Stan had told him what he wanted to do to him, Gary nearly had a heart attack; now that he's used to it, he kind of likes it. Certain things still make him blush, but knowing what he does to Stan is actually kind of thrilling.
He'd left his computer to lock himself in the bathroom, thinking his parents were out (why on earth would he have let Stan take it as far as he did if he'd thought anyone was home?), admittedly so he could, uh… take care of it. His situation. In the… pants region.
Jerk off.
Ugh, he's never liked the way that phrase sounds.
When he got back, he saw his mom looking at his computer and it all sort of exploded from there. Harsh things were said, things Gary didn't know a mother was capable of saying to her child, and now he's never allowed back in his house with his family ever again.
"Hey," comes Stan's voice from the door. Even after throwing up a few times, he's still feeling a little woozy and tipsy and sick. He will never understand how Stan can drink such gastronomic amounts of liquor—this stuff is awful. The curtains are drawn shut, the heater is blasting, and Gary is wrapped in a mess of blankets that all smell like Stan.
It makes his chest hurt.
"Gary," Stan tries again, coming further into the room. "My mom made some food. She made noodles and some chicken parmesan. You like that, right?"
Gary stamps out the little flare of irritation at the fact that he just got excommunicated from his family, his church, his life for a guy who doesn't even know his dietary preferences. Stan's just trying to be helpful, and, after all, whatever is wafting up from downstairs does smell delicious.
"Sure," he says.
"You've gotta come down and eat it, though," Stan continues. "Ever since I found a dead rat in an old Sonic bag under my bed, I'm not allowed to eat up here."
"That's disgusting, Stan," Gary replies softly, grimacing under the covers.
"Stanley Randall Marsh!" Sharon calls up the stairs. "The rule is that you're not allowed to eat in your room. For Pete's sake, Gary has just been through a trauma, he can eat on the roof if it'll make him feel better."
Gary doesn't have it in him to laugh, not even to smile, even when Stan calls back down to her, "This is America, not a fascist dictatorship" and comes to sit beside him on the bed. Nothing. Gary doesn't think he feels anything.
That scares him.
"Hey," Stan says again, softer this time as he runs his hands over Gary's hair. Normally, he keeps it pretty well-groomed, to the point where he doesn't like Stan to touch it or mess it up, but it's actually sort of nice right now. Especially how Stan bends down and kisses him softly on the jaw when he does it.
"If you want, I'll bring you up a plate," Stan murmurs into his ear. "Or if you want me to fuck off, I'll do that too. Anything you want, dude."
And just like that, Gary pulls the covers over his head and starts to cry.
"Oh, shit," Stan says softly. "Gary… baby, don't cry."
This makes Gary cry harder. There's hardly a moment when Stan's not impressively vulgar—if he's saying sweet things, the situation is worse than Gary is letting himself believe. He feels Stan pull the blankets off of his face and stroke his red, tear-stained cheek.
"I messed everything up, Stan," Gary hiccups as Stan shakes his head and stretches out beside him, attempting to hold him close through the layers separating them. "What if they never talk to me again? I could miss my sister's wedding, I could miss my siblings growing up… they're the people I love, Stan, the people I care the most about on the planet. And they want absolutely nothing to do with me."
Stan doesn't say anything, just noses at Gary's temple and hugs him closer. Gary sighs—he appreciates that Stan's the kind of guy who'll let you talk at him. There's nothing he could say or do right now that would make everything all better, anyway.
He messed up. He wasn't careful about what he was doing and now he has to suffer the consequences. That's how life works.
"Maybe you could tell them you had a religious experience in the woods or something," Stan suggests after a few minutes of silence.
"That would be lying, Stanley," Gary replies very frankly. "I know you're trying to help, but… I made my bed. Now I have to lie in it."
Stan is quiet for a moment before he shifts around a bit and gives a facetious, "Well, technically, it's my bed," and kisses Gary on the nose.
Oddly enough, it makes Gary feel a little better—it even gets him to smile a little bit.
"Hey, I got you to smile," Stan beams, wicking away Gary's tears with his thumb. "Not to drop a pride bomb all up in here, but damn, I'm good."
Gary rolls his eyes at this, but he's not crying anymore. That's saying something.
"Man, maybe that's it," Gary sighs. "I got too cocky."
"Oh, right," Stan says and settles back onto the bed, one arm slung around Gary's shoulder as he leans their heads together. "You can say 'cocky' just fine, but 'suck my cock' might as well be Russian."
Gary jabs him in the side with his elbow.
"Now's not the time, Stanley," he warns, a little stuffed up from crying too much. Stan sighs and nods, bringing a hand into Gary's hair and stroking over it all too lovingly for his sensibilities right now. It makes his heart hurt even more than it already does.
"I thought I was hiding it so well," Gary whines and puts his face in his hands.
"I don't know why," Stan shakes his head back. "We weren't subtle at all. We've had an inordinate amount of people walk in on us since we started this."
Gary frowns, about to retort, but then he actually thinks about it for a second and realizes that, wow, Stan is right. They frequently make out in semi-public places—Gary even went down on Stan in the school bathroom on Halloween when he saw his Indiana Jones costume (this boy can rock five o'clock shadow and a fedora like no other)—and then cybersex? Written evidence?
"Stan," he moans and shuts his eyes. "Stan, did I want my family to find out?"
"I don't know," Stan shrugs helpfully. "It was weighing on you pretty heavily, dude. Remember you almost kissed me goodbye when I left game night the other week?"
Gary screws his eyes shut and, in a moment of complete and utter despair, utters "Fuck me sideways."
Stan gasps, pretending to be scandalized, "That sounds like a whole dollar for the swear jar."
"Stan," Gary moans. He is having a crisis; he can't be dealing with the smart-alecky dweeb he calls a friend right now. He needs his sweet friend, the one who calls him 'baby' and holds him and gives him kisses when he needs a little extra pep. "Stan, what if I just… What if I knew that my parents were in the house? And I left the window up? I usually minimize everything, even when I'm doing normal stuff."
Stan looks at him then and shrugs—again, helpful.
"Gary, I don't know," Stan finally concedes. "You don't talk to me about what's bugging you, how am I supposed to know?"
Gary looks at Stan. He's right—the boy doesn't get to be too often, but when he's right, he's right. Gary lets his eyes slip shut and rolls over to bury himself in Stan's arms. Stan has nice arms and he gives really good hugs.
He cuddles even better.
"I'm sorry," Gary says softly.
"Why?" Stan asks softly and hugs Gary closer, kissing him on the top of his head. Gary looks up, about to say something when Sharon appears in the doorway. She raises her eyebrows and folds her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorway as she gives them an incriminating once-over. Gary immediately scrambles away from Stan and sits up to adjust himself. Sharon just gives him a smile and shakes her head.
"Honey, it's fine," she says and walks over to pinch Stan on the cheek. "My Stan is very cuddly, know."
"Mom!" Stan gives an indignant whine and bats her hand away. Sharon laughs and turns her kind and loving smile on Gary.
"Do you want anything to eat?" she asks, and, as good as everything smells downstairs, Gary shakes his head.
"No thank you, Mrs. Marsh," he says and nooks down at his hands. "I'm not feeling too great."
Sharon gives a nod and braces folds her arms again.
"Well, all right," she says, looking at him with an enormous amount of pity for a moment before she gives a final nod. "I'm sure you're tired," she hums softly.
Gary nods back. "A lot, actually," he laughs slightly.
Sharon gives him a look of understanding before turning her gaze on Stan. "Honey," she says, "Fifteen more minutes and then I need you to help me with dishes downstairs."
"Wh—mom!" Stan exclaims. "You can't put a timestamp on me comforting my friend," he argues.
"Stan, it's fine," Gary replies, frowning a bit. He doesn't particularly like when Stan talks back to his mom—or when anyone does, as a matter of fact. It makes him intensely uncomfortable; your parents are your parents and at the end of the day, you need to at least respect them. "Your mom's right," Gary continues, "I'm really tired. I think I'm actually going to go to sleep right now. You can comfort me all you want tomorrow, I promise, just—go help your mom, okay?"
He gives Stan a reassuring smile, even though Stan gives him this disproportionately betrayed look in return. Gary knows Stan wouldn't impose, y'know… sex stuff on him right now, and quite frankly he's not so sure he wants to touch a penis ever again. He just plain does not have the energy.
For anything.
The adrenaline is starting to wear off, and suddenly he hits a wall of exhaustion. He can actually barely keep his eyes open right now. In spite of the constant, niggling fear in the back of his head, the absolutely despairing realization that everything he knew about his life is over, all he wants to do is shut his eyes and sleep.
Stan seems to get this after a minute and gives him a nod.
"Okay," he says, "Well, I'll probably come up later—"
"Stanley," Sharon warns him lowly.
"Ma—"
"I am not running a brothel, young man," Sharon chastises sternly, and Stan rolls his eyes.
"Fine," he says, like this is the most unfair thing she's ever told him, before looking back to Gary. "You can have the bed, dude."
"Stan…" Gary attempts to counter, but Stan shakes his head and gives Gary a smile.
"It's cool, dude," he says, "The couch in the basement is actually a futon, so, y'know, I'm golden."
Gary's a little dumbstruck by this (or, maybe by the sweet kiss Stan gives him right after), though he doesn't know why. Stan is one of the kindest people Gary knows, and sometimes he even lets it show. There's no reason he should be surprised.
The moment Stan and Sharon shut the door behind them, Gary falls to the bed again and passes out almost immediately.
Gary doesn't wake to Stan wrapped around him like he thought he would, which he supposes is good. He doesn't want to disrespect Sharon, and it's not like Stan and Gary have ever gotten the chance to fall asleep together anyway, so he figures he's not missing out or anything. It's on his list of things to try, but not right now. He looks over at the clock on Stan's nightstand and groans into the pillow. It's almost eight o'clock, which means he slept… wow, he just slept for thirteen hours.
He had no idea a person could be so exhausted.
He rolls out of bed and rubs his hands over his face before his stomach lets out a low rumble. He groans and stands, yawning and heavy-limbed as he stands and ventures downstairs. Stan sleeps like the dead, and probably won't be up for a while, but Gary knows Stan keeps a store of strawberry poptarts that Gary is "always welcome to".
He grabs a pack out of the pantry and puts them in the toaster, folding his arms over his chest as he comes to the realization that this is one of the first times in his life that he hasn't been at church at this time on a Sunday.
The basement door opens and Stan stumbles out, yawning and stretching the sleep out of his muscles as he shuffles over to Gary. Gary can't keep his eyes off of him—Stan is intensely good looking, no one's denying that. With his flannel pajama pants and his worn out gray shirt hugging at his nicely toned chest… Gary shifts.
"Hey," Stan greets him through a sleepy smile, coming forward to wrap him in his arms and kiss him softly. They both have morning breath, but Gary doesn't mind.
Normally, kissing when he should be in church would be enough to make Gary duck away and tell Stan to try again later or something, but he's just so desperate to be close to someone who cares for him right now that he wraps his arms around Stan's neck and holds him close.
"Wow," Stan laughs a little when he pulls away. "How're you feeling?"
"I don't wanna talk about it," Gary murmurs and buries his face in Stan's neck. His poptarts shoot up anyway, and like a dork he goes to grab them as soon as they're done. He burns his fingers a bit and flings them rather spastically onto a plate, making Stan laugh and hug him close from behind.
"You wanna watch TV instead?" Stan asks, and Gary nods. He doesn't watch a whole lot of TV, but he's willing to do just about anything right now. He knows that desperation is a slippery slope, and what he really should be doing now is stepping back calmly and putting his energy into picking up the remaining shards of his life. He needs to just stop thinking for a minute and remember that Heavenly Father is going to get him through this.
He has a funny way of doing that, see, no matter how bleak things seem.
But right now Stan smells all sleepy and good and he's nice and warm and slings an arm over Gary's shoulder as they settle in to watch TV. It's nice. It's really nice. He knows the church is strict about this, and he knows his parents are too, but Gary finds himself wondering for the briefest flicker of an instant if they'd care if they knew how honestly happy he is. Stan's a good guy, and up until a few hours ago, Gary's family liked him. This happy feeling in his chest is the same one he gets when he helps people with his family, or when he's just sitting around with them, goofing off and having a good time. This doesn't feel like everyone told him it would.
Like he told Kenny, this is a part of him. Liking boys is a part of who he is. And when you allow yourself to be just who you are, no holding back, it feels incredible.
It all comes to a grinding halt when the front door opens, and in walks Kyle Broflovski, clad in pajamas of his own (with that ratty old green hat on his head) and a plate of cookies in his hands. He looks like he's just seen a ghost.
"Hey, dude, what's up?" Stan asks, immediately shifting his arm back into his lap. Gary feels a stab of longing in his gut, but says nothing.
"Oh," Kyle shakes his head and pulls a frown. "Sorry, I just—I couldn't sleep and you weren't answering your phone… thought I'd come by and see if you were awake, see how everything was going. Uh, my mom heard about what happened," Kyle turns his attention to Gary now and grudgingly holds up the cookies. "She wanted me to take these over here last night, but Stan said you were sacked out, so…" Kyle trails off and eventually sets the cookies on the table.
Kyle has never liked him—Gary knows this. His family is very nice, though, even if they're a little protective and strict. Gary can relate to that.
"She also told me to find out if you have any dietary restrictions, because she wants to make dinner for you tonight," Kyle says, like he's rehearsing a prepared list of instructions. Gary can't help it—he smiles big and wide.
"Wow," he says softly. "I eat everything. Tell your mom thanks, and that that's really, really nice of her."
Gary's sometimes surprised at the good will of others when the going gets tough. Sure, people will ridicule you and judge you when all is fine and dandy, but when things take a turn for the worse, it's amazing what kindnesses people will show you.
Sharon comes down the stairs then, all wrapped in a bathrobe and smiling warmly at the full living room before her.
"Good morning, boys," she hums. She kisses Kyle on the cheek as she passes him, "Hello Kyle, sweetheart."
"Hi Sharon," Kyle smiles back. Gary watches it all with a weird sort of envy creeping up on him that he quickly stomps back down. Stan and Kyle have known each other forever—of course they walk into each other's houses and call each other's parents by their first names. They're a part of each other's lives, they always have been, and they probably always will be.
Gary's close to Stan, but not in that way.
In others, sure, but he'd take having a friend as good as Stan over going down on him any day of the week.
"So," Sharon says as she puts on a pot of coffee and wanders back into the room. "Gary, honey, you are more than welcome to stay with us for a few days, but… are you sure there's no talking to your parents or getting them to let you come home?"
Her earnest desire to be helpful is the only thing that's keeping Gary from breaking down right now. People don't get it—they never get it—and sure, it's no one's fault, but it's still frustrating as heck.
"No, Mrs. Marsh," he says softly.
"Anyone we can call, who you can stay with?"
Gary shakes his head, looking down at his lap. The only family he has that isn't with the church is his mom's estranged older sister out in Oregon. He can't go to Oregon—he needs to finish school here.
"Why can't he stay here?" Stan asks.
"Nope," Kyle shakes his head at the very same moment Sharon comes out with an "Absolutely not." Gary frowns at this, looking at Kyle curiously. Kyle meets his eye for half a second and, suddenly, Gary gets it—the reason for all the hostility and the sour faces.
Kyle's in love with Stan. Or, at least, loves him enough in just the right way, enough to make him jealous of Gary. It all makes sense now. Kyle loves Stan in exactly the way Stan never thought he would.
In exactly the way that drove Stan to people like Butters and Gary.
In exactly the way that's making Stan shift uncomfortably and sit on his hands.
"Uh, I think I'm gonna shower," Gary says and stands. He needs to wash the last day off of him, to forget it all happened and start moving on. A shower is just the thing that'll kickstart him back into functioning. He gets up from the sofa and heads upstairs, trying not to eavesdrop on all the reasons Sharon doesn't want him to stay. It's understandable—he's another mouth to feed, and she seems to know exactly what's going on between him and her son.
Gary shuts it all out, just locks the door to the bathroom and turns on a hot blast of water, ready to forget that the last few hours ever happened.
oooooo
The moment the sound of the shower hits Kyle's ears, he loosens up immediately. Gary has always made Kyle intensely uncomfortable, though it's not for a lack of trying. He's Stan's friend, and Kyle's tried to respect that, but there's something about him that rubs him the wrong way.
Plus, his mom always gets really mad at him when Kyle rags on him. She's convinced it's racial discrimination, and no matter how many times Kyle tells her that, no, it's because he's an overly optimistic jag.
"Stanley," Sharon says very plainly, very drawn out and imploring, "I realize that you and Gary are… intimate—"
"Aw, mom!" Stan grimaces and pulls a face.
"Honey, it's not even the main reason why it is inappropriate for him to be living here!" Sharon exclaims. "You two are close, and honey, that's wonderful, but it's not our job to give him a place to live."
"Mom, I—"
"End of discussion, Stanley," Sharon snaps, putting her hand up and giving Stan an overwhelmingly stern look. Stan just rolls his eyes and moves to go up the stairs, not saying anything. Sharon sighs then and sends a pleading look Kyle's way.
"Would you please go talk some sense into him?" she asks. "He'll listen to you."
Kyle just stares back at her for a second. He knows that, to a certain extent, this is true. Kyle is often the only person who can pull Stan out of his morose little funks—at least, that used to be the case. Now Gary's always there with a stupidly unwavering smile and all that shit.
Kyle usually resorts to kicking Stan's ass into feeling better or seeing reason. How is he supposed to compete with someone like Gary, who is the dictionary definition of cheer?
He falters under Sharon's gaze and sighs. "Fine," he groans. "I'll go talk to him quick."
"Thank you, sweetheart," Sharon beams and gives him a squeeze on the shoulder. She looks at Kyle like she can see right through him, and knowing her she probably can. Kyle turns to go up the stairs before he gives her the satisfaction of reading him like a book, especially since he has no idea what it is that she can see.
He stomps up the stairs and into Stan's room and stops in the doorway. Stan is in nothing but a pair of jeans, looking through his dresser drawer for a shirt to pull on. Kyle feels something kick the air out of his lungs and redirects his gaze to the ground.
"Hey, dude," he says, and Stan pulls whatever shirt he has in his hand close to his chest to cover himself.
"Hey," Stan returns awkwardly, and it's like that for a few moments. Intensely awkward.
"So, um," Kyle shifts. "You and Gary, huh?"
Stan falters and pulls his shirt over his head, coloring significantly but saying nothing for a few long seconds. Kyle shuts the door and grabs at the back of his neck with both of his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks. So much for talking some sense into him. Stan's eyes slip shut and he braces his hands on his hips. It's a normal gesture, but something about it makes Kyle's blood pump harder and toes curl up in his shoes.
"I wanted to," Stan sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Just… we needed to keep it quiet, first of all, and—" he falters. "And I didn't know what you'd say if I told you, so I just, y'know… didn't."
Kyle nods. No lying, that kind of stings. He and Stan have always been the kinds of friends who could tell each other anything and it would be okay. Sure, they've started doing their own things recently, but Kyle always thought…
Never mind. It doesn't matter what he thought, only that it's obviously not true.
"You know he can't live here, right?" Kyle just says, making sure his 'You know I'm right' face is well in place. Stan slumps a little bit, but nods all the same.
"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I know. It's just—he doesn't have anywhere to go, Kyle. Like, nowhere."
Kyle nods, "I know." True, Gary's not exactly the most popular guy in town, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a place to go. The fact that Stan's the only friend he can come to with this is kind of fucked up—yeah, Kyle may not like the guy, but that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a few good friends, you know?
"Dude, I'll talk to my mom," he says then and Stan's head snaps up. He looks at Kyle curiously as he continues, "Look, she's got a hard-on for helping people like this, okay? And, like… maybe she'll be able to talk some sense into his parents—"
"Dude, it's part of their fucking religion, okay?" Stan snaps. "I mean, it's fucked up and everything, but she can't talk them out of their religion."
Kyle raises his eyebrow, "Have you met my mom? She'll sure as shit try." When this fails to comfort Stan, Kyle sighs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "She wants to help him, dude. Why do you think she invited him over for dinner? And I—fuck, I wanna help too."
Stan gives him a scrutinizing look then, not unlike the one Kyle's seen Sharon give time and time again. "Why? You hate him."
"Irrelevant," Kyle supplies immediately. "And I don't. Yeah, he's annoying, but you like him, so… unless that's entirely to do with how well he handles your dick, he must be okay."
Stan barks out a laugh at that, making Kyle bust up a little himself. When in doubt, make a joke. If anything, you'll make someone laugh and you'll diffuse a little of the tension. Plus, sometimes people have really nice smiles that just belong on their faces always.
"Dude," Stan smiles and shakes his head before holding out his arms and pulling him into a hug. Normally Kyle's not averse to Stan's hugs, but right now it feels a little strange to be pressed so close against him.
Fuck.
Fuck, he's got it bad.
How in the hell was Cartman right about something for once?
The door opens then, Gary entering all freshly showered and wrapped in a towel, and Kyle and Stan fly apart. Gary looks at them curiously, but he looks like he feels a lot better than he did a little bit ago, like he's one of those people who believes that showers are not only cleansing, but "cleansing" as well.
"'scuse me, guys," he says and goes to grab the bag of his stuff off of Stan's desk chair. He pulls out a small bundle of what look like once-neatly folded clothes and colors a bit before exiting the room and dressing in the bathroom. Kyle doesn't dare say a word until he returns, and even then he can't find it in himself to speak for a few minutes.
Hey, I wasn't making moves on your not-boyfriend… except I do kind of want his face on my face.
Smooth.
"Um," he finally comes out with it. "Gary, would you want to maybe come over and talk to my mom about staying with us for a while?"
That seems to catch Gary off guard. He already looks a little like a wet cat and not as well-groomed as Kyle is used to seeing him. Maybe that's making him a little more bearable to be around.
"What?" Gary just says, and Kyle finds himself nodding.
"My parents are all about this liberal crusader stuff," he says. "Gay and Mormon? They'll have a fucking field day helping you."
Kyle almost smiles at the way that Stan sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, but he keeps his focus on Gary. He gives him this hopefully reassuring smile and rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet. He isn't sure where to go from here, apart from waiting for Gary to respond to him, so he just sort of adjusts his hat and gives them both a smile.
"Um," he coughs. "I'm gonna go start my computers homework. I'll see you guys—"
"Well, hang on a second," Gary interjects, holding up a hand so Kyle will stop. It's something that would normally make Kyle roll his eyes and scoff, but somehow it gets him to slow down this time. "Kyle, would your family really do that?"
Kyle just blinks a few times and nods. "Yeah, dude," he says. "I mean, we'd have to talk to my mom, but worse comes to worse, you've got a place to stay for at least the next few days. She lets Kenny stay with us whenever he needs to."
He inwardly shudders at how much his mom loves playing mommy to Kenny. The more his mom feels bad for you, the more she's going to take pity on you. Ever since Kenny and his brother and sister got put in foster care that first time, Kyle's mom has always made it her first priority to treat Kenny like one of her own.
He has the feeling the same thing is going to happen as soon as Gary walks in Kyle's front door.
"Would you mind if I came now?" Gary asks. "I mean, it's probably best if I sort everything out as soon as possible, right?"
Kyle looks over at Stan, who's got his eyes firmly fixed on Gary, and looks back. Gary's staring at him, looking all hopeful, and Kyle just nods.
"Yeah, sure dude," Kyle nods. Gary grins broadly and flies forward to bring Kyle into a bone-crushing hug. Kyle grunts a bit, tosses Stan a worried look, and is met by Stan shifting uncomfortably where he stands. He doesn't even have time to mouth 'what's wrong?' before Gary's got his bag over his shoulder and is waiting for Kyle to lead the way.
Kyle gives Stan a final shrug and a smile before the three of them walk downstairs. Stan stops them by the door and, looking back at the kitchen to make sure his mom is occupied, ducks forward and kisses Gary softly. Kyle averts his eyes immediately, trying to tune it out as Stan says, "Let me know what's going on, okay?"
An innocuous request. They don't say 'I love you' or anything gross like that, which makes Kyle way happier than it should. This culminates with Stan pulling him into another hug, holding him so close and so tight that Kyle can feel their hearts beating together through their chests.
Stan doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. They know each other inside and out, and talking sometimes just clutters that and makes everything feel all mucky and dragging.
It does make the walk back to his house with Gary all the more uncomfortable, though.
"Are you all right?" Gary asks.
Kyle frowns. "What?" he returns, "I'm fine, dude. Why're you worried about me? I'm not the one who got kicked out of my house for… ah, sorry." Kyle squints when he sees Gary give him a look out of the corner of his eye.
"It's all right," Gary shrugs, and after a beat continues, "That must've been hard for you."
Kyle looks at him now, eyebrow cocked and entirely ready to play it aloof. Gary just smiles sadly and shakes his head, though, having none of Kyle's shit, apparently.
"You like him," he says, and Kyle feels his blood run cold.
Shit. "Gary, I'm sorry—"
"Why are you apologizing?" Gary gives a good-natured laugh. "Kyle, it's not anyone's fault who they're attracted to. I know, believe me, and you and Stan are close. Some things are just inevitable under certain circumstances."
"Certain circumstances?" Kyle parrots back, and Gary gives a resolute nod.
"You like guys, Stan's attractive… you know, those kinds of circumstances," Gary says. "I'm not mad."
Kyle lets out a frustrated groan at that and kicks at a large rock on the sidewalk in front of Craig's house. "How?" he practically shouts. "How in the fuck are you not mad?"
"Wow, man," Gary holds up his hands, taken aback. "There's no need for that kind of language when I'm just trying to be nice to you."
"Well, stop!" Kyle snaps. "Stop being nice. You should hate me."
"Why would I hate you?" Gary frowns. "Kyle, none of this is either of our fault. We're both hard up for the same guy—trust me, it's not a big deal."
This, of course, make Kyle feel like a piece of shit since he's making a big deal out of nothing to a kid that just got kicked out of his family for something that isn't his fault. Kyle slumps a bit at this and runs his fingers through his hair, looking a little hopelessly at Gary before he mumbles out an apology.
"Still kind of fu—messed up, though," Kyle corrects himself. "I'm just—this whole thing, I mean. I'm not gonna try to take him from you or whatever… I'm too busy with school to maintain a relationship or whatever."
And it's true. Kyle's not sure how he would handle a relationship on top of everything else right now.
"Well, a. you can't take him, because he's a person," Gary points out, "and, b…" he gives Kyle a hard look, "wow, you really don't get it, do you?"
Kyle raises his eyebrows at this, "What?"
"You, Kyle," Gary says loudly. "He loves you. He always has, you've just been too wrapped up in everything else to notice."
The words bounce off Kyle's ears, making him shake his head and fold his arms over his chest. "No, he doesn't," Kyle says. "He's with you—"
"Are you serious?" Gary raises his eyebrows, laughing now. It's not cruel or anything, like Cartman is when Kyle just doesn't get something, but Gary looks like he definitely can't believe what he's hearing.
"Kyle, just because two people screw around doesn't mean they're in love," he comes close to Kyle now, missing that bit of fear and shame that always keeps him so conservative and reserved with his unhappy feelings. "I'm his friend. That's it. You were busy, he was scared and confused, and I—admittedly I might've taken advantage of our friendship, which I… I don't regret, but it certainly wasn't right of me. You were busy and I was just so relieved for another guy to tell me that he liked boys, to let me know that I wasn't alone. And it's nice, Kyle… The first time you kiss someone you actually want to kiss and it's really easy to get caught up in it, and I did. I got way caught up in it. I'm just glad it didn't go as far as it could have. As good as what I do with Stan feels, I always find myself wondering how amazing it must feel to do it with someone I love. And I don't want to stand in the way of that for you two, so… I stand down."
Kyle's head is still spinning from Gary's purge when the last words hit his ears. Stand down? What the hell? How does someone just stand in the middle of the sidewalk and talk at length about this kind of thing, so self-aware and well-adjusted? Kyle would kill for an understanding like that, at least, in regards to all the shit he does.
And, more importantly, how does someone just stand there and tell you that they "stand down"?
"Gary, that's dumb," Kyle scowls now. "I mean, I appreciate it, but I told you I can't handle that right now. Plus, even if I did… make a move or whatever," the thought of giving Stan flowers and holding his hand at the movies actually makes him nauseous, "we're going to different schools in a year. A romantic relationship would make absolutely no sense right now."
Gary looks at him a little desperately and lets out a little sigh. "Crap," he says. "Now telling him I don't want to mess around anymore is way less noble."
Kyle waits a few beats before he asks, "Was that sarcasm?"
"Yes, Kyle," Gary nods. "That was sarcasm."
They look at each other for another moment before turning and continuing on their walk. Kyle's head hurts, which is going to make tackling the rest of his homework all the more difficult, and Kyle is suddenly reminded of why he doesn't bother with people who aren't Cartman or, sometimes, Kenny. Cartman has issues, and he's a raging tool, but he's so repressed that he never wants to talk about what's bothering him. And Kyle's acerbic enough that he's learned how to deflect Cartman's bullshit with frightening ease.
Other people's business makes his head hurt like crazy.
"You don't love Stan?" Kyle finds himself asking.
"Oh, of course I do," Gary shrugs. "I wouldn't get involved with anyone I didn't care for or feel safe with, but I don't think I could be in a relationship with him. There are certain things that are important to me that he doesn't get, and vice versa. He's one of the nicest people I know, but there are some things we'll never fully see eye to eye on."
"You sound like you've given this a lot of thought," Kyle remarks, a little more bite to it than there probably should be.
"I'm very efficient when it comes to self-reflection," Gary nods, and gives Kyle a bright, cheeky smile. "Though I might have to hurt you if you break his heart."
Kyle doesn't doubt this. After he took down Kenny without even meaning to, the threat holds a little more water.
When they back to Kyle's, they enter into a haze of Pine-Sol and Windex. Anticipating that Gary was going to say 'yes' to her dinner invitation, Kyle's mom must have started trying to spruce up the place. Her graying red hair is piled on top of her head in a sloppy bun as she runs a feather duster between the posts of the staircase, stopping like a deer in the headlights when she realizes that she's no longer alone.
"Hello, boys," she gives an uncomfortable smile, adjusting her hair a bit. "I had no idea you'd be home so soon."
"Ma," Kyle says, taking a step forward once he shuts the door. "I know it's a lot to ask, but Gary doesn't have anywhere to go—"
His mom puts a hand over her heart and looks over at Gary, her green eyes wide.
"Honey, do you not have a place to stay?" she asks, like this is the furthest scenario possible from the actual truth. Gary just purses his lips and shakes his head.
"Not presently," he says. Kyle's mom looks back at him, asking for silent verification, begging him to not let it be true, but Kyle just shrugs and nods.
"Oh, honey, you'll stay with us, of course," his mom looks back at Gary and comes over to pull him into a hug. She's at least a head shorter than Gary, and Gary looks quite like he doesn't know what to do about this, but he gets it in him to hug back after a moment.
"Mrs. Broflovski, I really don't want to impose," he begins.
"Nonsense!" Kyle's mom says and pulls away. "The boys can bunk up together for a while—Ike's still got a bunk bed."
"And to think you once thought that was a bad idea," Kyle shakes his head, sarcasm dripping from his voice. He does not want to share a room with Ike, but… Okay, Gary needs a place to stay, and he'd rather it be here than in an alley somewhere.
"Kyle, don't be smart," his mother warns. "Go upstairs, put new sheets on your bed, and make some room for Gary's things."
"Oh, this is everything," Gary indicates the bag on his shoulder. This only seems to invoke more pity from Kyle's mom, leading her to pat his arm gingerly and say, "Don't you worry about a thing here with us, all right? You are safe here. Now, go upstairs with Kyle and I'll call your parents to let them know where you are. All this aside, I'm sure they're very worried about you."
Kyle rolls his eyes and grabs Gary's shirt before anything else can be said. They head up to Kyle's room, way neater than Stan's has ever been (even on its dirtiest days), and before Kyle can even start stripping the sheets off his bed, Gary pulls him into another hug.
"Thank you," Gary says against his neck. There are tears clogging his voice, making it all thick and a little hard to understand. Kyle hugs him back, trying as hard as he can not to be a socially awkward twit about the whole thing.
He couldn't imagine his family putting him through anything like what Gary's family did to him. Kyle doesn't blame Gary for wanting to keep his distance from Stan—Kyle knows he'd dump all of his cigarettes in the trash if his mom ever found him smoking for real.
He just lets Gary cry on him for a while, knowing that this is probably what he needs. When Gary finally calms down enough, he helps Kyle remake his bed and even offers to fix the broken closet door and spruce up his rickety old dresser while he's here.
Kyle concludes that maybe having a nice guy around won't be so bad after all.
Hello all! Thank you all for bearing with me and my slowing updates. I think I might get one more chapter out (two maybe) before I graduate, at which point I may appear to drop off the face of the earth for a while, but I will be back. I guess what I'm trying to say is: don't worry, this story will get finished. :)
The chapter title is from ABBA's Chiquitita. Because I have a very chic and modern taste in music.
Love you all and have a great weekend!
