Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kyle’s phone was blowing up in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He tried to ignore it and continued to participate in his monthly meeting with his team. He didn’t miss the dirty look his boss shot him- as if Kyle could control who texted him and when. It was just another bitter reminder of how much he hated his job. He waited patiently and took notes as his phone vibrated away. Clearly something was happening, but it probably wasn’t important. It never was.

As soon as the meeting adjourned, Kyle left the conference room as quickly and professionally as possible. He wanted to avoid yet another lecture from his boss. Luckily, a co-worker from another department started engaging her in conversation and he was able to slip out with no issues. Once he was back in his office, he finally checked his phone.

Unread messages from ‘The Sibs’ group chat. Undoubtedly Ike and Marjorine were freaking out about something.

Kyle rolled his eyes and started at the beginning.

Marj: Fellas, I have news

His eyes went from rolling to nearly popping out of their sockets when he saw the attached photo. There was a shiny new diamond ring resting on her left hand.

Ike: holy shit kenny finally proposed??

Ike: congratulations! i’m so happy for you

Ike: mom and dad are gonna FLIP

Marj: I know, he made me wait forever lmfaooo but it was worth it

Marj: I don’t care if they freak out or not, I’m fucking marrying him

Marj: Are you going to be able to attend with your schedule? I think Kenny will want you and Kyle to be groomsmen

Ike: i will make time im not missing this

Ike: isn’t that right, KYLE??

Kyle levied a sigh and began texting back.

Kyle: Yes, I will be there. I’m happy for you, Marj.

Ike: there he is

Ike: bro we’ve talked about this before the periods are really aggressive

Ike: you sound insincere

Kyle: I’m being extremely sincere. I’m not sacrificing proper grammar for you.

Ike: fucking nerd

Marj: Kyle!

Marj: I know this might be hard for you, but we’re having the wedding in South Park

Kyle: I figured. You live there.

Marj: Yeah, but you left for a reason

Marj: Stan is going to be best man

Marj: Kenny’s already asked him

A cold wave of nausea washed over Kyle at the mention of his ex-best friend. He couldn’t think of Stan without regret and shame rising up in his chest. Just the spelling of his name brought Kyle back to his parent’s driveway and the words exchanged there. They could never take any of them back. The damage had been done.

Kyle: How long do I have to mentally prepare?

Marj: At least a year

Marj: It would mean the world to me and Kenny if you came

Kyle: I’ll be there. You’re my sister and I’m gonna be there for you. I love you.

Marj: Awww I love you too

Ike: dude its been like 7 years you really need to get over it

Ike: also mom says if you don’t come home for thanksgiving she’s gonna drive up to jersey rip out your entrails and eat them

Marj: lmfaoooo no she fucking didn’t

Ike: that was the gist of it lol

Kyle: I’ll mail my entrails to her and save her the trip.

Kyle: I’ll come home when I’m good and ready. Or for Marj’s wedding. Whichever comes first.

Marj: Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this easier for you

Ike: there’s a sentence fragment in your last text 

Ike: fuck your grammar

Kyle: I have to get back to work. Love you both.

Marj: Bye Kyle!

Ike: love you too, loser

Chapter Text

  It had been a while since Stan said he was coming over. Kyle kept looking between his watch and his bored family. The six of them had hastily decorated, but clearly rushing hadn’t been necessary. There were balloons in blue and gold strewn about, having fallen off the balloon arch Sheila and Marj tried to make. Even now they were trying to reattach the strays. Kenny was staring hungrily at the cake on the table. It read ‘Congratulations Stan and Kyle’. Gerald and Ike chatted on the couch, the younger of which had a party horn hanging out of his mouth.

Kyle was starting to worry. Stan very rarely ran late, much less this late. He had no idea what could be keeping him. His mind wandered to terrible things that could have happened- of course, none of those were likely living in their tiny little mountain town.

“I don’t think he’s coming, son.” Gerald finally said.

“I’m sure he’s on his way now.” Kyle responded with apprehension, sounding more confident than he felt.  He fiddled with the parcel he received in the mail. It was his acceptance package from UCLA. It was the only college he and Stan both got accepted to. Kyle received other offers, but they went unanswered. He and Stan had been planning their escape from Colorado since freshman year. The plan was always for them to go to college together. Their friendship meant a lot to both of them. They itched to leave South Park together.

The front door swung open loudly as Stan staggered inside. Kyle instantly knew something was wrong. Something in Stan’s face was disturbing, as if he saw something he shouldn't have. At first, Kyle had suspected he was drunk, but then their eyes met. Guilt immediately consumed him for even considering that option. Stan definitely had his wits about him. His eyes were a bright, clear blue, but his cheeks were splotchy red. He had been crying.

“Congratulations!” The Broflovskis and Kenny cheered behind them. Ike blew into his party horn.

Stan turned to inspect the room. He clearly forgot they were celebrating their accomplishments that night. His face crumpled as he took in the themed décor. Kyle felt all of the enthusiasm wither away, replaced with concern. 

Stan grabbed Kyle’s arm and began dragging him up the stairs. “I need to talk to you.”

No one spoke as they left the room. Kyle’s worry grew with every step. Something was very, very wrong. This wasn't how he pictured this evening going at all. Stan led him into his own room and locked the door behind them. They both sat on Kyle’s bed. Before Kyle could say anything, Stan was sobbing into his own hands.

“Dude, what’s going on?” He reached for some tissues and handed them to his best friend. 

It took Stan several minutes to calm down enough to talk. He balled up the tissues in his fist. “I really fucked up, Kyle.”

He frowned, alarmed by the frenzied state Stan was in. “I’m sure we can handle it, whatever it is.” He tried to reassure him in a calming tone.

His bottom lip trembled. “Wendy’s pregnant.” 

Kyle felt like he’d just been slapped across the face. He knew the façade he had been maintaining would eventually break, but not like this. Stan was smarter than that. He proved that with his many college acceptance letters. All the breath escaped from his lungs. “What?”

“I-I don’t know how it happened." Stan ran his hands through his hair. "She’s on birth control and I always used protection. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Is she getting an abortion?” Please, God, let her get an abortion.

Stan shook his head. “She’s already past the legal limit. She has to have the baby.”

“Jesus Christ.” The weight of the situation was beginning to settle. “What are you going to do?”

He let out a shaky breath. “We’ve been talking all day about that. Our parents, too. We’re keeping it. Them? I don’t know.”

Kyle was surprised by his own anger. “You’re eighteen, what do you mean ‘you’re keeping it’?”

“Kyle, please, I really don’t need your judgment about this. If one more person calls me an idiot today I’m gonna lose it.” Stan sounded close to tears again.

More guilt rose up. "I'm sorry. I just don’t understand. How are you going to swing college and a kid?”

Stan fixed Kyle with a pleading look. He was so obviously disappointed by this turn of events. Kyle desperately wanted to make it go away for him. He wanted to pull Stan into a hug and never release him. “I can't go.”

"What do you mean?" Kyle's pulse quickened. He was afraid of the answer.

"Her parents plotted all of this out." His voice was laced with disgust. "She's going to go to school on time, just like they always planned for her. I'm gonna take care of the baby and work."

Kyle was surprised by the rush of anger he felt towards Wendy's parents. He knew they were hard asses - Wendy never hesitated to complain about the tight leash they kept her on- but this was excessive. "So, what, you don't get to have an education now? That's bullshit, dude."

“I know," Stan agreed. "but it's a decent plan. Everyone knows I would just fuck around anyways."

Kyle shook his head, his arms crossed against his chest. "What the actual fuck? You're a good student, Stan. You would only fuck around the normal amount. That doesn't mean you shouldn't go. I mean, Jesus, what would your mom say?"

The next look Stan gave Kyle nearly broke him. "She agreed. She's so fucking mad, Kyle. She said that I made my bed and now I have to lie in it."

A righteous fury overwhelmed Kyle. "I can't believe she would sell you down the river like that."

Stan shot him a dirty look. He didn't tolerate anyone even breathing wrong around Sharon Marsh- not after everything they've been through together.

"Sorry." Kyle apologized again, his anger somewhat evaporating. "I'm just mad for you. I can't believe they're making you sacrifice your education for your girlfriend's."

Stan went very quiet then, but his face said it all. A silent, desperate disappointment filled the room. He blinked away tears. "Wendy's my fiancé, now."

Somehow, that was what finally broke him. He knew that, eventually, his little fantasy world would collapse in and only a black hole would remain. Even then he could feel the beginnings of being devoured by it. Stan was never his to start with. A cluster of cells and a piece of paper permanently kept them apart now. Still, his responsibilities as Stan's best friend required him to swallow down his own feelings. He did it again, the lump never truly leaving him. "Are congratulations in order?"

Stan scoffed, an echo of his normal disposition. Kyle felt like he was being stabbed in the chest. "I don't fucking know, dude. I don't want to marry her, but I will. For our kid."

"I think that's for the best." Kyle nodded. It was a lie.

The two of them sat on his bed, letting the sunset filter in through the blinds, until time felt nonexistent. It was one of the last times they would be in a room together.

Monday

Kyle sincerely doubted that his parents were the only people available to pick him up from the airport, but they were the ones to greet him anyways. His mother, of course, was extremely happy to see him. Sheila pulled him into a hug filled with motherly love and completely lacking in judgment. He forgot what that felt like. He hadn’t been home in so long- the last time he visited he carried now-dead weight with him. Gerald was also happy to see Kyle, but he boiled his affection down into a simple handshake. God forbid he hug his son. Kyle refrained from saying anything about it. This was just how the dynamic worked between them. Sheila gave her love in excess and Gerald sustained his children on crumbs.

A freezing blast also greeted Kyle once they left the building. “Jesus Christ, it’s cold!” 

Gerald laughed at him. He lapels of his coat flew wildly in the wind. "Clearly Jersey thinned out your blood."

He rolled his eyes and tucked his hands deep into his coat pockets. Naturally, he didn't pack gloves. “No, I just got used to living somewhere with actual seasons. It’s fucking April! It should be warm.”

“Well that would be nice, wouldn’t it, bubbie?” Sheila agreed, somewhat dreamily. “Imagine that, a spring wedding in South Park.”

A bright, colorful mass in the sky caught Kyle’s eye. “Is that a hot air balloon?”

“Yeah,” Gerald answered. “Third annual hot air balloon festival. The Mayor's most recent attempt to draw in tourists."

“Marjie thought it would make a lovely backdrop for the wedding.” Sheila said, her scarf blowing in the wind. “Oh, I’m so excited!”

Kyle felt the beginning of a tension headache coming on. He loved his parents, but they were too much sometimes. Older age and wedding planning were definitely turning them feral. He could already tell that his mother was going to be insufferable. To be fair, Marjorine was likely going to be the only of the Broflovski kids to tie the knot. Ike was apparently firmly in his 'ho phase', and that ship has sailed for Kyle. Sheila should be granted some grace, but that was going to depend on how quickly she got on his nerves.

The three of them piled into the car, the same minivan his parents had when he was in high school. Kyle looked out the window and watched the Colorado landscape unfold. He had forgotten how beautiful the mountains were. The colorful balloons did actually add to the whimsy of this place. As nice as it looked, it didn’t do anything to relieve the anxiety stirring in his chest. Being back home was already a lot to deal with. He had so many nasty memories attached to this place. Every pine needle that fell to the ground held the memory for him, because why the hell would he want that shit?

As they drove into town, he noticed how much it had changed. New business had popped up, some replacing long standing staples of the community. At the corner stood his sister’s new salon. It occupied the old Photo Dojo building. The camera façade on the front of the building was gone, but the large circular window remained. They could see Marjorine chatting on the phone inside.

“Look at our baby, Gerald.” Sheila was nearly weepy with pride. “She’s done so well for herself.”

“Our kids are all hard workers.” He agreed. “Even Ike.”

“Actually, could you let me out?” Kyle asked. “I’d like to say hi.”

“Do you want us to wait for you?” Gerald asked.

“Nah, I can walk home. It’s not like I don’t know the way.”

“Okay, just be back in time for dinner.” His mother conceded. 

Kyle got out and ran across the street, trying to escape both his parents and the cold. Snow crunched under his Oxfords. He didn't know what he was thinking packing so lightly. This week was going to be miserable without a real jacket. A bell chimed as he pulled the door open. Jesus, this place was so pink it nearly hurt his eyes. He spotted Marj at the reception desk with her back turned to him. Behind her was a full salon. Women were getting their hair done and other women were doing the hair. He recognized a few of them- most notably Nichole Daniels, who appeared to be bleaching someone’s head. 

“Uh huh.” Marj was saying. “Alright. Okay. Fuck you too. Uh huh. Goodbye.”

She put the phone down with a huff.

“Sounds like a happy customer.” Kyle attempted to joke.

Finally, she turned. His sister wore a black apron over a knee-length pink dress. Her pockets were filled with combs and scissors. Marjorine Broflovski had to be the most beautiful woman in South Park. He was biased, of course. All he knew was that her grin was enough to melt away his anxiety. No matter how badly he fucked up, his sister always had a smile for him. She hurled herself into his arms in a matter of seconds. Kyle squeezed her tightly and twirled her around. Her shrill laughter caught everyone’s attention, but neither of them cared.

“I’ve missed you, Kyle.” Marj told him once he put her down. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” He smiled at her, completely sincerely. His cheeks ached.

Marj raised her arm up, and Kyle huffed with the knowledge of what she was about to do. She found the tie keeping his hair in a respectable man bun and pulled it loose. Kyle’s dark red curls spilled free. Much to his embarrassment, she began running her fingers through them. He never much cared about his hair, but Marj did. She clearly didn’t like what she saw.

“You need an intervention.” Marj grimaced. “You can’t come to my wedding like this.”

“Alternatively, I could just stay home on Saturday.”

The look Marj shot at him was a threat in of itself. His mouth audibly clicked closed and he let himself be directed into the salon. Most of the women greeted him as he walked past. If he knew them at one point, he didn’t anymore. Moving states erased most of his old neighbors from his mind. 

“Hey, Kyle.” Nichole acknowledged him. “You look well.”

“So do you.” He responded politely, but he wasn’t really looking at her all that closely.

“I’m busy for the next few days, but we should definitely get together and… catch up.”

With her tone of voice and the way she was blatantly checking him out, Kyle guessed that what she was proposing probably had very little conversation involved. He just smiled and walked away.

Marj led him to a wash sink in the very back. No one else was getting a shampoo at the moment, so they had a relative amount of privacy. 

“Have a seat.” She told him. “Sorry if Nichole made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” He sat down and leaned back in the chair. “Wow, this is way more comfortable than our bathtub was.”

Marj let the water run. “I know, right? What a glow up.” 

When they lived together, Marj would practice her hair dressing skills on as many people as she could find- including her brothers. What started out as a favor became a bonding activity. Kyle would lean his head back into the tub and Marj would wash his hair for him. They would talk about anything and everything. She always had the shampoo at the ready if Kyle needed to vent or cry or tell a funny story he couldn’t risk their parents overhearing. Sometimes he would just lie there and listen as Marj worked things out. It was an intimacy he didn’t think he missed until now.

Kyle felt himself relax as soon as the warm water hit his scalp. “Mom is losing her shit about this wedding.”

She scoffed as she began lathering his hair up. “I know, God help me. If I can get through this week without murdering her or Dad, I’ll be amazed.”

“It’s that bad, huh?” 

“After all this time, Dad still doesn’t think Kenny’s good enough for me. Mom won’t outwardly say it, but I know she agrees. This whole time we’ve been planning this thing, they’ve kept asking me if I’m sure I want to marry him.”

Kyle listened intently as he stared up at the blank, white ceiling tiles. It was a nice reprieve from all the pink. He could smell the shampoo in his sister’s hands. He wasn’t ever able to place that specific scent. It just reminds him of her. It was comforting. “You’ve been with Kenny even before you came to live with us. You’d think they’d be over it by now.”

Marj scrubbed like her life depended on it. Her acrylic nails really dug in. It felt very nice. “They honestly think I can do better, but I really can’t. No one else would be capable of loving me the way he does. Any other man would fetishize me or leave my body in a ditch. If I’m lucky, maybe both.”

“Have they forgotten that you’re trans?” Kyle asked. He wouldn’t put it past his parents to block that specific detail out. The idea that their only daughter is at a very high risk for violence might be too much for them to bear. In a true Broflovski fashion, they would rather bury their problems than deal with them. Definitely not an issue for Kyle. Not at all.

“It sure as hell seems that way.”

“They were just saying how proud they were of you.” He informed her. “So don’t worry, you’re still the golden child.”

“Kyle, you’re the golden child.” Her tone was dead serious. “You can do no wrong in their eyes, even when you refuse to come home.”

“If they knew- ” He started to say, but Marj cut him off.

“They would still love you.” The determination in her voice left no room for debate. 

“They would be disappointed.” Kyle debated anyway. “Dad has never been as proud as when I brought Heidi home for the first time. If I brought home a guy, he would never look at me the same again.”

“They might be a little disappointed,” she conceded. “but not as disappointed as they are in Ike.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Ike is probably the most normal of all of them- he was straight, cis, and got good grades. He was following his dreams and attending an acting school up in Toronto. For some reason, their father considered this to be an egregious sin- probably because Ike made the attempt to study law and gave up on it.

Marj shut the water off and wrapped a towel around Kyle. They got up and walked to an empty booth. Kyle noticed that it was hers as she wrapped a smock over him. Her name adorned the mirror in dry erase marker in her fancy ass handwriting. He remembered when they were much younger, she used to write out her new name over and over again until it was perfect. Nothing made her happier than that.

Marj seemed to enjoy showing off her family to her clients. A collage of photos were taped up at the corners of her mirror- her and Kenny eating ice cream in the summertime, Mom and Dad on the couch, one of Ike onstage. Kyle smiled when he saw himself among them.  There was a photo of all the Broflovski kids together, and Kyle at a party towards the end of high school. His smile faltered when he noticed one of himself and Stan. Stan had his arm slung around his shoulders. Kyle was leaned in a little too close. That was his seventeenth birthday. They were both really high that night. It hurt his heart to remember. The rest of the photos included Stan, Wendy, and their child. Those made him feel physically ill. He tore his eyes away.

“So what’s been going on with you?” Marj asked him casually. 

“Work. Survival. Paying rent.” He looked at himself in the mirror. His beard did a good job of covering a lot of it up, but even he could tell how haggard he looked in comparison to his younger, happier self inches away. “Very little.”

“Do you care how short I go?”

“No, do what you want.”

Kyle heard her scissors trim away as she attempted to make small talk. “Is your boss still awful to you?”

“Yeah, but she’s letting me take the lead on more projects so I think she’s getting better.”

Marj suddenly sighed. “Kyle, are you happy?”

He shot her a confused look in the mirror. How was that relevant?

“It’s just that,” she continued without waiting for him to answer. “I know that a lot of bad things happened while you were in school.”

He knew exactly what direction she was going with this. “A lot of bad things happened to me here, too.”

“I know that.” More snipping sounds from her scissors. “You had every right to leave, but I fail to see the benefit of staying up there now after so long. You’ve already got your Masters degree. You could go anywhere.”

“But you want me to move back here.” He accused her with narrowed eyes.

“Well, duh!" Marj rolled her eyes. "Everyone you love is here. Me, Kenny, Mom and Dad. Ike moved out but he visits a lot. Nichole, apparently. People really miss you. They ask me about you all the time.”

Guilt gnawed at him. He knew that he continually let his family down. He missed out on so many important occasions, a lot of them by choice. The truth was that Kyle didn’t want to show his face in South Park ever again. He wanted to leave it all behind him- he just lacked the strength to leave his family behind, too. He would if he could. In a heartbeat. Kyle wanted to erase his existence from the annals of this shitty little town. He wanted to slip out of his identity and into the mountains, where he’d only be found by hikers years after his death. He no longer wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, Marj.” He cast his eyes down, unable to meet hers in the reflection. “I’ve been an awful brother.”

Snip. Snip. Snip.

“You have been, yeah.” She finally said with a sigh. “I know you’ve been going through a lot, but maybe you’re at the point where you can’t deal with it by yourself anymore. I mean, it’s been years and you’re not getting any better. I’m worried about you.”

“I… I’ve been considering therapy.” Kyle lied. He’s been considering something, but it wasn’t that.

“I think that would be best.” Marj agreed. “It’ll be hard, but as Dad likes to say, ‘anything worth doing is difficult’.”

He couldn't think of a single instance of Gerald saying that. They finished the cut in silence.

Chapter Text

Just like every day, Stan Marsh came home dead tired. He opened the door to the same scene he always did- his beautiful wife surrounded by textbooks at the kitchen table, and their amazing daughter in her bassinet besides.  Despite his weariness, Stan grinned at the sight of them. Wendy looked up as she heard the door click closed. She gave him the same smile that always took his breath away. Her long hair was pinned up and she was wearing her reading glasses. He walked up to her as quietly as he could and gave her a brief kiss. She tasted like coffee- no doubt she was cramming for a test. 

“How was your day?” She asked him.

He turned to gaze upon their baby. Little Lucy Marie Marsh slept soundly in her bassinet. She was seven months old. Her pediatrician said she would start teething around this age. What a miracle that was. Her whole existence was a miracle. Stan reached down to pick her up.

“I have to go back out soon.” He told her as he lifted his daughter gently to his chest. Lucy cooed softly but didn’t wake. “Yeah, Daddy’s home.”

“Why?” There was an undercurrent of annoyance to her question.

“Ryan called out and we need a closer.”

“But you opened.” Wendy reminded him. 

“I volunteered.” He told her gently, not wanting to disturb their daughter's sleep. “We need the money, Wend.”

Wendy tapped her pen against her notepad impatiently, resting her face on her other hand. She was so cute when she was pouty. She couldn’t disagree with him, though. Denver was expensive. Having a baby was more expensive. She recently quit her work-study position at his insistence. Even if it made things harder on him, she needed to focus on her schooling. Stan was considering getting a second job. None of this would be worth anything if she flunked out.

“When’s your next day off?” 

“Monday.” Stan said, searching their apartment. “Is there food?”

“Yeah, the Broflovskis brought over a casserole." Wendy flipped through her notes absentmindedly. "I can take her to school with me on Monday. Dr. Headley’s cool about it. That way you can stay home and rest.”

Stan’s mood instantly soured as he found said casserole hot and ready on the stovetop. Lucy gurgled in his arms. “Which Broflovski?”

Wendy looked up at him with a frown. “Not Kyle.”

Right. Obviously. He was in California living it up, free of any real expectations. Stan missed him and hated his guts in equal measure. He forced himself not to think about it.

“Sheila came by. She wanted to see the baby. She also did the dishes for us.” 

“Oh, that was cool of her.” His voice sounded flat even to him. He tried to blink away the stinging in his eyes. 

“Stan.” Now there was nothing but sympathy in her voice. God, he loved her. He was so lucky. “You said you weren’t going to cry over him anymore.”

Deep breaths. He looked down at his sweet little baby, swaddled in yellow, and placed kisses to her forehead. Lucy smelled like baby powder and unconditional love. What happened before didn’t matter anymore. Nothing outside of that apartment mattered. When he told her he wasn't going to, he almost sounded believable. 

The two of them had dinner together and talked about her day. Stan made a mental note to pick up a shift on Monday.

Tuesday 

Stan carefully placed the last bobbi pin against his daughter’s scalp. “You’re all done.”

Lucy Marsh, freshly eight years old, admired herself in the mirror. Stan knew his daughter had a critical eye- something she had unfortunately inherited from him. Her long, black hair was pinned up into a smooth ‘princess bun’ at the crown of her head, very closely resembling the reference picture she provided him hours before. It took a long time for him to get it right. Finally, she smiled. 

“It’s perfect, Daddy.” Lucy told him. “Aunt Marjie should hire you.”

“Well, your uncle hired me instead.” He told her. “It would be rude of me to quit my job.”

She grinned up at him and looked back into the mirror. Stan’s eyes followed her. There was no question of whose kid this was. Lucy was a near fifty-fifty split in genetics between himself and Wendy. Lucy inherited her mother’s button nose, chin, and dimples. From Stan, she received his eyebrows, his large ears (she’d grow into them eventually) and his eyes. As petty as it was, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d won something over on his ex-wife. Wendy’s eyes were a deep brown color. He felt vindicated knowing that his kid wasn’t a complete carbon-copy of her mom.

“Why don’t you go put on your dress while I shower?” Stan told her. “And please don’t spill anything on it this time.”

“That was an accident.” She deigned to remind him before she left the room. 

Stan locked the door behind him and made an effort to find his phone among the clutter. Their apartment only had one bathroom, and an unorganized one at that. Counter space was limited. He bought a shelf when they moved in, but he has found neither the time nor the energy to put it up. His phone was buried under a small pile of scrunchies. Lucy collected them, but also lost them frequently due to the previously mentioned lack of space. Stripping off his clothing, he grabbed his phone and hopped into the shower. Stan had to wait several minutes for the water to heat up. The water heater in this building was garbage. Once he was comfortable, he propped up his phone and made a call to his brother.

“You’re running late, aren’t you?” Kenny’s annoyed voice came through the speaker.

“Well hello to you, too.” Stan responded as he let the water run over him.

“Dude, are you in the shower?” 

“I’m multitasking.” He felt a strong need to defend himself. 

“You’re naked in front of my lady.” 

“Hi, Marj.” Stan laughed. “I don’t know if you know this, but you can’t see me.”

Marjorine laughed, too, but Kenny spoke over her. “You’re spiritually naked, dude. You’ve got nude energy right now. Not cool.”

“I think you’ll both survive the sound of me bathing.”

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda hot.” Marj was very clearly joking.

Stan made an exaggerated grossed out sound. “I’ve never been softer in my life.”

That got both Kenny and Marj laughing. It pleased him to hear. Stan highly prioritized Kenny’s happiness- probably higher than his own. They were brothers in everything but blood and last names.

“Are you calling about Kyle?” She asked.

He winced. “You love to cut to the chase. Can’t I just have a nice conversation with my brother and sister-in-law?”

“One-hundred-percent calling about Kyle.” Kenny confirmed. 

Stan had time to prepare for their eventual reunification. Even when they were still in high school, Kenny knew who his groomsmen were going to be - Stan, Kyle, and Ike. He never diluted himself into thinking Kenny wouldn’t incorporate Marj’s brothers into the wedding, nor would he have ever asked him not to. After Saturday, he and Kyle would be brothers-in-law. They would be family. The very thought nauseated him.

He’s been dealing with some very complex feelings for the better part of a decade. A cocktail of anger, grief, and shame liked to sneak up on him every time he thought about Kyle. Anger and grief from the violent death of their friendship, and shame from how he handled himself at that moment. Had he not been a dick, maybe they wouldn’t have imploded. He expressed this to Marj once, and she actually disagreed. She told him Kyle would have left their relationship broken on the ground regardless of how Stan acted that day. He knew that she was right and that just circled him back to anger. It was a vicious cycle he was desperate to break. This week was likely his only chance. He had to talk to Kyle about how things ended before he fucked back off to where ever he came from. 

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt him.” Stan finally said. 

“You did.” Marj confirmed. 

“I don’t want to.” He quickly amended, realizing how ominous that sounded. “I mean, I won’t. Fuck.”

“You don’t have to be near him at all if you don’t want to.” Kenny told him. “Ike volunteered to sit between you two tonight.”

“I want to at least apologize. Whether or not he accepts is his own prerogative. I just…" Stan paused to collect his thoughts. "I don’t think I can put into words how I’m actually feeling without sounding like a self-centered dickhole.”

“You can be honest with us.” Marj sounded so sincere. He’s always been able to trust her before and he felt no need to stop now.

“I'm not just nervous to see Kyle. It's everyone." His heartbeat quickened at the very idea

"What do you mean?" His brother asked.

"It’s just that… aside from Lucy, I feel like I haven’t really accomplished anything since graduation. I’ve just been kind of floating. Kyle’s an engineer, Wendy is a lawyer, Bebe became a nurse, the both of you started businesses, and I have nothing to show for the last eight years. People are going to judge me for that."

"Wow, you must be very anxious." She said. "The Stan I know doesn't give a shit about what other people think."

"I mean, I know I shouldn't. Fuck, I shouldn't even be talking to you guys about this. You have enough to worry about right now."

"We were kind of expecting one of you to have some sort of meltdown." Kenny told him. "Honestly surprised that it's you, but that's beside the point."

"Can we circle back to everything else you said?" Marjorine tried to change the subject. "Do you need a pep talk?"

Stan nodded before remembering they couldn't see him. "I think that would be helpful."

"Everyone's on different timelines." She started. "You and Wendy were the first of our class to have a kid. Of course you feel behind, but it doesn't mean you actually are. Your circumstances were different, not worse. And frankly, I think you did an awesome job with the hand you were dealt."

The hand he was dealt reminded him of the one time Kenny made him do a tarot reading. That psychic lady turned out to be correct and Stan hated that shit more than anything- mostly because he didn't see it coming first. He didn't put two and two together quick enough and the results were disastrous. 

"Yeah!" Kenny joined in. “So if someone asks you tonight what you do for a living, you’re gonna say that you work on cars with your whole chest. Then you’ll tell them that you’re a kick ass single dad, and then you can just collect phone numbers from there.”

“Agreed.” Marj said. “Bitches love hot single dads with no baby mama drama. You’re a real hot tamale.”

“The hottest tamale. And frankly, if Kyle doesn’t see that it’s his fucking loss.”

“My brother isn’t a bitch.”

“‘Bitches’ is a non-gendered term, baby. Also, yes he is.”

“You don’t have to worry about Kyle judging you.” Marj redirected the conversation. “He may have a degree, but he doesn’t have much beyond that.”

“Yeah, he’s miserable, dude. You’ve at least got him trumped in the happiness department.”

Stan wiped away tears. He wouldn’t exactly call himself ‘happy’, but sorrow was becoming a distant memory. As petty and spiteful as he's felt for the past eight years, he can't bring himself to be glad that Kyle isn't happy either.

“You good, brother?” Kenny asked.

He sniffed. “Yeah, I’m good. I think I really needed to hear all that. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Marj said. “Also if you and Lucy aren’t here in the next hour we’ll be sacrificing you to the Old Gods.”

“Ooh, dinner and a show. You’d better heed her warning, Stan. She’s been a real bridezilla this whole- ow!”

Stan rolled his eyes. He did actually have to get a move on. Lucy’s been unsupervised too long. “Alright, bye! Love you.”

“Bye, love you too!” They said in unison, and the call cut out.

Stan and Lucy Marsh rolled up to Buca De Faggoncini with three minutes to spare. His anxiety was through the roof now. As soon as he left the bathroom, he found Lucy with juice all down her front and  tears streaming down her face. At least her bun was still intact. 

Stan spotted his brother and his bride-to-be in the back, standing in front of a long table set for eight people. Beyond that was the picture window this restaurant was “famous” for, looking out onto the Rockies. He had to admit that the hot air balloons were a nice touch, even though he tried convincing Marj out of having her wedding at the same time. She was chatting with Nichole, most likely about bridesmaid stuff. Nichole looked great, but Marjorine looked absolutely radiant in her white cocktail dress. 

He also spotted both Broflovski brothers in an animated conversation with Kenny. His brother wasn’t difficult to find in a crowd, considering how he was the tallest person they all knew. It wasn’t hard to spot Kyle, either. His ginger hair was like an emergency flare against a snowy sky. The rest of the large crowd was made up of family, friends, and what looked to be their entire graduating class. He wouldn’t be surprised if all of them were invited. Stan only knew of two people who weren't- Eric Cartman and Randy Marsh.

Lucy ran out in front of him in a brand new dress, as if trying to see how long it would take for her to ruin this one. He followed her closely, all the while trying to convince himself that he was cool and collected. He was definitely sweating in his suit. Stan was hoping to make a quiet entrance into the party. No one had to know that he was very late for his brother’s rehearsal dinner. No one had to know that he hadn’t been there the whole time. Lucy had other plans.

Before Stan could even think to stop her, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “AUNT MARJIE! UNCLE KENNY!”

Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at the Marshes. Lucy booked it full speed towards them, completely disregarding her nice dress shoes. Kenny kneeled to receive her with his arms outstretched and a wide grin across his face. When they collided, he picked her up and spun her around. The crowd adored this show of affection. ‘Awws’ and applause rose up. Stan couldn’t help but notice Kyle’s fake smile and half hearted claps. 

A hand landed on Stan’s shoulder. He turned and found Tolkien’s smiling face greeting him. He was accompanied by Wendy Testaburger to no one’s surprise. Stan allowed himself to relax now that he was among friends.

“That’s a new dress.” Wendy noticed, her eyes fixated on their daughter. She wore a dark blue dress to match with the other two bridesmaids. She held a glass of wine delicately with both hands. Wendy had always been a classy lady- undeniably too classy for him- and tonight was no exception. Tolkien wore a sharp charcoal suit and a navy blue tie. They made for a cute couple. Stan had no issues with their relationship. He was a nice guy, and he very wisely didn’t try to parent their kid. Also, Stan was the one who filed for divorce in the first place.

“Bet you can’t guess why.” Stan replied dryly. Lucy spilling juice on her clothes was becoming a pattern of behavior.

“Five bucks says it’ll be destroyed by the end of the night.” Tolkien wagered as he sipped from his drink. From an outside perspective it may be considered rude to place bets on children. However, in South Park -a town where it snows eleven months out of the year- placing bets on anything and anyone was entertainment of the highest form.

“Ten says it’ll be destroyed within an hour.” He had no qualms about raising the stakes. “I heard there’s a chocolate fountain here.”

Wendy rolled her eyes and passed her wine glass to her boyfriend. “I’m not betting against my baby. Did you see Kyle?”

The anxiety returned in full swing. So did the sweat. “Of course I did.”

She reached for his Marjorine-approved pink tie and began unknotting it. He scoffed. It’s just like Wendy to find his attempts at accomplishing anything to be flawed. “Are you going to talk to him?”

“Yeah. I feel like I have to.” He let her re-tie his tie, even though it was perfectly fine before. 

“Good for you, dude.” Tolkien nodded his approval. “South Park hasn’t been the same since you stopped being friends.”

Stan sneered at him. “You live in Denver.” 

“Shit, here he comes.” Wendy hissed and brushed non-existent lint off his shoulders. “Remember- you kick so much ass and no one gets to judge you for your decisions. You’re a great dad. Don’t ruin this for them.”

Stan barely had the chance to open his mouth before she directed her attention elsewhere. He turned to see Lucy with a massive pout on her face. She was holding onto Kyle’s wrist with one hand, forcing him into an awkward bend. Her other hand was placed sassily on her hip. Kyle, for his part, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there. He looked uncharacteristically pale. Well, actually Stan didn’t know what was uncharacteristic of him anymore.

Lucy stomped her foot. His attention snapped back to his daughter. “Mommy, Daddy. Aunt Marjie tells me this strange man is my uncle.”

Wendy smiled. Oh, God. She finds this funny. “That’s right. This is your Uncle Kyle.”

“That can’t be right.” Lucy contemplated this issue as she would a difficult math problem. “I have all my uncles already.”

“No, your Aunt Marjie has two brothers- Ike and Kyle.” She gestured at her daughter’s prisoner.

Their little girl huffed dramatically. “How many dang uncles am I supposed to have?”

Stan, Kyle, Wendy, and Tolkien counted on their fingers just to be sure. They all agreed on four- Kevin, Kenny, Ike, and Kyle. They all included Kevin as a courtesy to the groom- technically, he doesn’t count because he never spent any time with the Marshes. No one was willing to piss Kenny off by discounting his biological siblings, though, so his older brother was thrown onto the pile.

“So he’s the last one?” Lucy pointed an accusatory finger at Kyle.

“Yes.” The adults confirmed.

“Four uncles and three aunts.” Wendy clarified, adding Karen to the total just to be safe.

Lucy turned her suspicious gaze from her parents to the man trapped in her grasp. “Where have you been then, since we never met before?”

Stan must have locked his knees at some point during this interrogation- he started to feel a little woozy when Kyle spoke. “Oh, I don’t live in South Park.”

She looked confused. “Do you live in Denver?”

Kyle shook his head. The few loose curls he had shook with him. “No, I don’t.”

“Where do you live then, ‘Uncle Kyle’?” Lucy used her free hand to make air quotes. God, his kid had such an attitude already. 

“I live in New Jersey.” Kyle admitted it like he was ashamed.

Uhh, that sure as fuck wasn’t where Stan thought he’d been. He side-eyed with his friends. Wendy and Tolkien looked just as surprised as he was.

“Oh.” She was unimpressed. “I heard Jersey was stinky.”

Kyle smirked. Stan bent his knees a little more. “Did your Grandpa Randy tell you that?”

She gasped in delight, a blinding grin cracking her face in half. “He knows Pap Pap! He is family!”

Stan couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s excitement- it didn't hurt that she forced a secret older than herself into the light. What else has Kyle been hiding?

“Sweetie,” Wendy held her hand out to Lucy. “if you want to release Uncle Kyle from your clutches, there are plenty of other new people here that you can harass.”

“Yay! Let’s go!” She took her mother’s hand and the three of them left Stan behind with a liar.

Kyle rubbed at his wrist where Lucy held onto him. Red imprints of her fingers stood out starkly against his skin. “She’s got quite a grip on her.”

Stan kept quiet and simply looked at him. He knew it wasn’t Kyle’s fault, but he built a version of him up in his head that wasn’t matching with reality. California Kyle was a dick. He wore sunglasses indoors, kept a blonde chick under each arm, and spoke over everyone all the time. He bragged about building bridges and getting fat paychecks. It was easy to knock out California Kyle’s teeth when he laughed at Stan for not having a real career. He wasn’t expecting Jersey Kyle- a man who appeared shorter than his actual height with sad eyes. Jersey Kyle wasn’t punchable at all. Jersey Kyle needed a hug.

He was clearly getting uncomfortable with Stan just looking at him, so he took the initiative to speak. “I owe you an apology, Stan.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. “Jersey? Really?”

“Okay, two apologies.” Kyle exhaled. He was nervous and fidgety. Something about that put Stan on edge.  “I couldn’t go to UCLA without you. We were supposed to go together. I chose a different school. I didn’t tell you because- well, I think that’s kind of obvious.”

That wasn’t an apology, but he felt his anger soften anyways. 

“Listen,” he continued. “We both said some hurtful things the last time we spoke. I think we both can agree that things got heated. I didn’t mean the things that I said. All of that came from a place of bitterness. Bitterness that things weren’t going to plan. I hate that our friendship ended. I don’t think ‘sorry’ really covers it, but I am sorry. More sorry than anything I’ve ever been sorry for in my life. I don’t expect forgiveness, especially not after all this time. I just wanted to make amends with you.”

Stan didn't expect any of that. He appreciated the apology, but as he listened he remembered why he was angry with Kyle in the first place. 

A running list:

1. Kyle refused to be happy for him when he found out he was going to be a dad
2. Kyle tried to skip town on his wedding day
3. Kyle said he was “ruining his life” and suggested he leave his pregnant fiancé at the altar
4. Once Kyle left, he made no attempts to reach out to Stan or meet his niece

It’s fine. It was all fine. There’s no need to dwell on the past, Stanley, he told himself. It’s been eight years. You both can move on from this. Just apologize like you wanted to in the first place and you can finally let it all go. Just apologize.

“I needed you.” He heard himself say instead.

Well that wasn’t an apology, either.

Kyle tilted his head in confusion. “What?”

“I needed you.” Stan repeated. He was impressed by how calm he felt at that moment. That same cyclical emotional pattern was whirling in his chest yet again: anger-grief-shame, anger-grief-shame. “I got married, I had a baby, and you weren’t there for any of it. All I wanted was for my best friend to stick around for me and be by my side- but when I needed you most, you disappeared.”

Kyle cast his eyes down. “I couldn’t be there.”

“Why not?”

Kyle didn’t answer. He just stood there with his hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching. Stan was suddenly very aware of the eyes on them. While he wanted them to hash it out, he didn’t want to do this in public. Luckily, the tinkling of knives on champagne flutes indicated that there was no more time for talk.

“This isn’t over.” Stan promised him.

Stan ignored the dozens of people staring at him as he walked towards the back table. Kenny and Marj were already seated. They were whispering to each other and paid him no mind. Ike was also seated on the groom’s side at the end. He looked up from his phone to greet him.

“So, how’d it go?” Ike asked.

Stan regarded him with cold eyes. “Poorly. Buffer us.”

Ike frowned, but he moved seats without issue. Stan took his right next to Kenny. Marj met his eyes.

“Thanks for not killing him.” She tried to smile, but he could tell she was concerned.

Stan reached for his glass, filled only with water. For the first time in forever, he wanted a drink. “The night is still young.” 

On Marj’s side of the table, her three bridesmaids were coming to roost- Nichole, the maid of honor, Wendy, and Karen. Wendy shot him a thumbs up and mouthed ‘good job’ at him. Apparently that encounter went about as smoothly as she hoped.  Finally, Kyle took his seat at the very end.

Kenny stood and pulled out a microphone. “Hi everyone. Thank you so much for coming to our rehearsal. We know that having it on a weekday is weird, so we appreciate your willingness to come out and eat the food we paid for.”

Stan didn’t have the heart to chuckle with everyone else. 

“I have to be the luckiest man on the planet.” Kenny gazed down lovingly at the woman who would be his wife in just a few short days. “I’m about to marry the most gorgeous woman in all of Colorado, and we’re doing it in front of all of you. I just wanted to say that-”

Kenny’s speech was suddenly interrupted by the sound of shattering glass behind them. Stan raised his head to find the source of the noise. Instead, he watched as a bullet ripped through Kenny’s skull. His face felt wet and warm. Less than a second had to have passed from when he was upright and smiling to when his dead body draped lifelessly over the table. The microphone clattered to the ground. It amplified the sound of blood dripping onto the hardwood for all of South Park to hear.

Stan couldn’t hear himself think over all the screams.

Chapter Text

Back when Marjorine was still Butters, back before she questioned things or stood up for herself, her parents were arrested. She remembered her dad screaming at the police and her mother hysterically sobbing as they were dragged away. It was traumatic- she cried on the stairs while a nice officer waited with her for CPS. That was the quietest her childhood home had ever been. She never saw it again after that night.

It didn’t take her long to figure out that Kenny and Tweeks’ parents were also arrested. People in town whispered about their crimes, but the three of them were kept in the dark- that was until the trial. They sat in a courtroom for weeks at a time while their last names were dragged through the mud.

Butters had a vague idea of what happened: The McCormicks were making meth in their garage, the Stotches were providing the ingredients and handling distribution, and the Tweaks were spiking their coffee with it. All six of the defendants were accused of poisoning an entire town. The evidence was damning. 

That was the scariest experience of Butters’ young life. She didn’t know what her future held outside of that courtroom. Where would they go after if their parents were found guilty? What if they weren’t? Her dad would punish her severely for taking the stand. Fear ran through her veins every day for the whole duration of the trial. There was only one thing that eased her anxiety among all the uncertainty.

Every day, all day long, Kenny held her hand under the table.

Wednesday Morning

Marjorine slowly came into consciousness after a night of restless sleep. The ruckus downstairs woke her up. She instantly knew something was wrong. Her bed was empty with the exception of the cat. There were no lips to kiss her good morning. There were no strong arms to embrace her. Sunlight streamed through their lace curtains, casting long, peaceful shadows over their carpeted floor. There was no room for peace today.

She cast aside the blankets, disturbing Sir Pounce’s rest. He meowed and jumped off the bed. The floors were always freezing in the morning. Marjorine didn’t feel it today. Her mind flashed back to the night before. Kenny’s eyes, so big and bright, staring down at her like she was the only person in the universe. Then those same beautiful hazel eyes were dull and dead, and she and Stan wore the evidence. She walked into the bathroom and spotted her white cocktail dress from last night sitting in the bathtub. She soaked it in hydrogen peroxide before she went to bed. They kept a lot of it on hand.

Marjorine brushed her teeth as she stared at that god damned dress. Kenny whispered to her a few minutes before about just how badly he wanted to take it off her when they got home. He never expected to be shot. At least it was painless this time. She spat bloody toothpaste into the sink. Her gums were sore. She must have scrubbed too hard again. 

Sir Pounce was scratching at the door to be let out. Marj listened to him mewl as she threw on some clothes. She didn’t care what, or even if they were clean - the shirt smelled suspiciously like motor oil. She brought the fabric to her nose and inhaled deeply. It only reminded her of what she was missing. She clamped down on her emotions before tears could begin to form. There was no need to cry. There was no need to feel. He will be back soon.

Once she was prepared to face another day without him, she opened the door and headed down the stairs. Sir Pounce bolted down before her and raced to his food bowl in the kitchen. Marjorine noticed that she had a full house. There was chatter and the sizzling of someone cooking on her stovetop. That didn’t bode well for Kenny. 

Marjorine stepped down into her living room. The family was in shambles. Karen was sitting in the corner on a call. No doubt she was trying to reach Kevin. Marj knew from experience that her efforts would be in vain. They were every time. Ike and Gerald sat nearby. Ike was on his phone while Dad watched the news. The weather was on- no shock here, it’s gonna be fucking cold. Ike looked exhausted. His hair was mussed up as if he had been running his hands through it. Gerald was calm and collected, as usual. He probably didn’t lose an ounce of sleep. 

On the other end of the sectional sat Sharon and Stan. They were absolutely devastated. Marjorine could tell neither of them slept. In fact, that was exactly where they were sitting last night when she went to bed. Stan had his head nestled on his mom’s shoulder. Sharon rested her hand on his head and repeatedly smoothed his hair down. Their eyes were red and their cheeks were flushed. Neither of them glanced her way. Marjorine couldn’t stand seeing them like this. They always fell to pieces.

In the kitchen, Kyle and Sheila were making breakfast. Kyle had tears in his eyes from chopping onions, and perhaps from the death of his brother-in-law. Sheila helped him cook. It looked like they were making omelets. Neither of them could sit idle in the face of tragedy. Something always had to be done. Wendy was sitting at the table, having a coffee. She was much the opposite- Wendy never generally never set idle. but death always froze her in place. Lucy was staying with the Testaburgers, miles away from the mess. Thank God she was in the bathroom when the shot went off and didn’t see what happened.

“Good morning, sweetie.” Gerald stood to embrace her into a bear hug. They used to make her feel so safe when she was younger. That was no longer the case. He couldn’t protect her from the things that hurt her the most. “Did you sleep okay?”

Marjorine simply shook her head against his shoulder. What words could she possibly use to express how she felt? The totality of the English language could never be enough to describe the never-ending anguish this cycle brought her. There was no changing or stopping it. It was like fate was an outdoor cat bringing her ‘gifts’, but instead of a bird, her lover’s mangled corpse was left on her doorstep. 

Gerald pressed kisses to her hair as if that would make her feel better. The longer she was in his embrace, the angrier she became with him. He hated Kenny. He hated Kenny even before the trial- his friendship with Stuart McCormick fell out for reasons unknown to both sides of the family. It didn’t matter at the end of the day. What did matter is that Kenny was never going to be good enough for Gerald simply because of who his bio father was, and that pissed Marjorine off to no end. It was her own petty revenge that she was taking the McCormick name. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Sheila called from the kitchen. 

Everyone rose like zombies from the grave and shuffled their way into the dining room. No one had the energy to do much else. Marjorine took a seat next to Wendy. Karen took the initiative to sit on her other side. As she suspected, there was a veggie omelet and toast on her plate. No one spoke. Only the sounds of clinking dishware, Sir Pounce munching on his kibble, and the news left on filled the room. Marj simply stared at her food.

“You should eat something.” Karen put a caring hand on her arm. Her voice was low and sweet- a tender moment for just the two of them. She felt so bad for Karen. This poor woman has gone through so much in life. Her parents were taken away, she was separated from her siblings, and now Kenny was dead and Kevin was unreachable yet again. “It’s really good.”

Marjorine could feel eyes on her. She didn’t want to be questioned, so she forced down a bite.

“So I was thinking,” Gerald began on what was undoubtedly going to be an unpopular idea. “We should hold a funeral for Kenny on Saturday while everyone is still in town.”

When he got silence as a response, he just kept talking. “We still have the venue booked. I think it would be a nice place to celebrate his life.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Dad! It’s barely been twelve hours.” Kyle’s voice was venomous. Marjorine winced at his anger. “Now isn’t the time to discuss what to do with his body.”

Gerald went on the defensive. “Calm down, Kyle. Someone needs to think about these things.”

Kyle countered his argument. “No, you’re trying to recoup the losses of a wedding you didn’t even pay for. It’s not your place to plan things! If anyone should make that decision, it should be the Sharon, Stan, and Karen. But guess what? They’re not thinking about that because he just died!”

“Kyle!” Their mother tried to scold him, but they were adults now. They were beyond being scared of her. “You’re being disrespectful. It would be nice of us to handle it on their behalf so that they can grieve.” 

“Fuck that!” Kyle was clearly on a roll. “You wanna talk about disrespect? How about all the times both of you disrespected Kenny? He lived his whole life knowing that the two of you hated his fucking guts for no reason. He always went out of his way to make the two of you comfortable with him and you always threw it in his face. Now you want to be charitable? Smells like bullshit to me.”

Panic was beginning to set in. The wedding was supposed to be in four days. Marjorine needed Kenny to be back by then. How the fuck was that going to be possible if all of these people remembered? She needed them to forget. She needed her family to shut the hell up.

“How dare-!”

Marjorine opened her mouth. The uncontrollable screams of a woman being tortured escaped her. Everyone turned to gape at her, the argument fully dropped. It took her several seconds to cover her mouth with her hands. No one tried to stop her as she got up from the table. She walked back into the living room and found the pair of boots she kept next to the sliding glass door. 

“Marjie?” Her mother called. She ignored her.

Once her boots were on, she opened the door and stepped out into the frigid mountain air. Sir Pounce raced out the door with her before she slid it closed. Kenny kept an ax near the door for whenever they needed firewood. Marjorine took it in hand. Its weight was a strange comfort. This was real. She was real. Her backyard was less of a yard and more like a wood. The house they purchased was twenty minutes outside of town on unincorporated land. They owned a dozen acres. Kenny had plans for every inch of it. That was just the kind of man he was. His mind was always whirling with potential moves he could make. Marjorine loved him more than anything. It ripped her heart out of her chest every time he left. It was never voluntary, but she bled every time. She didn’t know how many of these rounds she left in her. One day she would hit her limit, but today was not that day.

After a few moments of wandering, Marjorine chose a tree. She swung her ax as hard as she could at its trunk, pulled back and swung again. And again, and again. More screams bubbled out of her. It wasn’t fucking fair! Kenny was unlike every other man living in South Park- in fact, Kenny put them all to shame. He was kind and caring. His hugs were warm and his kisses were sweet. He helped everyone who asked for it, even when it wasn’t in his own best interest. He shared what he had. Kenny literally gave the coat he was wearing to an unhoused man once. He was a God damned pillar of their God damned community! He was too good for all this pain.  Kenny drew the Ten of Cups. His luck was supposed to have improved. They were supposed to be past this.

The ax stopped swinging. She tried to see what happened, to troubleshoot, but she couldn’t see. It occurred to her then that she had been crying. Wailing, actually, if her sore throat was any indication. She felt like her chest was caving in. Her breathing was rapid and uneven.

“Let it go, Marj.” Kyle’s voice was stern, yet empathetic. 

Her grip went lax as all the fight leached out of her. She wiped her tears on Kenny’s grody shirt and looked up. Stan, Kyle, and Ike observed her pitifully. Kyle tossed the ax onto the ground. Ike brought her a blanket. Marj hadn’t realized how cold she was until that moment. He draped it around her with a flourish only a true Thespian could pull off. Stan stood a few feet away, petting the huddle of gray fur in his arms. Thank God he found Sir Pounce. Kenny would be upset if his cat wasn’t around when he came back.

“The Sheriff called.” Stan informed her. “They’re closing the case. Accidental shooting.”

Marjorine didn’t care what the Sheriff had to say about it. It didn’t matter if it was accidental or not. The South Park police were almost all exclusively idiots, anyways. 

“They’re all idiots.” Ike agreed with her unspoken opinion. “The three of us have been talking and we think Kenny was murdered. There was no way it wasn’t done purposefully. Whoever did this wanted an audience.”

“We’re going to do our own investigation.” Kyle added. “We’ll probably find some evidence they left behind. I don’t know if it’ll lead to a conviction, but we’ll find out who killed him.”

In that moment, Marjorine let go of her grief. She shot her brothers a doubtful glance. “All three of you?”

“Yeah.” They responded in unison.

“Don’t worry, I’m still on buffer duty.” Ike told her. “I’ll stop them from killing each other.”

Stan sighed. “We’re not gonna kill each other. We have bigger issues to deal with.”

She considered asking them not to go, but they would demand to know why she was resistant to bringing Kenny’s killer to justice. It wasn’t like it didn’t matter to Marjorine who murdered her almost-husband. She just found it very doubtful that someone actually would want to. People liked Kenny. Pillar of the community and all that. More importantly, he was cursed. He was accidentally shot all the time. The vast majority of his deaths were accidental. Why would this be any different?

However, her brothers didn’t know that and it probably wasn’t a good idea to tell them that right now. They would simply assume that her grief was making her say insane things. Actually, now that she thought of it this ‘investigation’ might be just what she needed. There was a good chance that they’d get distracted while in town and forget all about it- it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve strayed from a mission. If they didn’t forget today, they likely would over the next few days. She eventually nodded her head and gave them her blessing. They didn’t need it, of course. They were grown adults who did what they wanted. They would have gone regardless.

Kyle pulled her into a hug.  “In the meantime, you need to take care of yourself. Eat and shower. I’ve asked Mom and Dad to leave, too.”

Marj clung to him, breathing deeply into his shoulder. Despite everything, she was so glad he was there. She appreciated how he always stepped up when needed, especially against their parents. "Thanks, Kyle."

Stan made a sound like a mixture of a scoff and a snort. “‘Asking’ is a nice way to put it. He threw their keys into the front yard and locked the door behind them.”

“That was the consequences of their actions.” Kyle said without an ounce of remorse. 

As if on cue, they heard the doorbell ringing and their mother’s vague screams. She was likely threatening Kyle with a second circumcision. It was her favorite line. It hadn’t worked on him past the age of fourteen.

Marjorine grimaced. She was so glad they didn’t have any neighbors.  “We’re gonna hear about this for years.”

“Yeah, we are.” Ike agreed. “It was worth it, though.”

Chapter Text

Ike sat on the uncomfortable bench outside of P.C. Principal’s office. He knew he was in trouble. This was his fifth fight in as many months. He was only seven, but already his knuckles were developing scars. Now they were split open and bleeding, matching the cuts on his face. His injuries were minimal in comparison to Filmore Anderson, who was nursing a black eye a few feet away. He was lucky Ike didn’t break his nose again.

In another reality, Ike and Filmore probably could still be friends. They had the same tastes in girls, music, and arguments. The problem started when they were having a heated debate one afternoon and Filmore, having run out of rebuttals and not liking to lose, called Marjorine a tranny. Ike had no other option than to kick his shit in, and has now done so once a month like clockwork. He knew Filmore was doing it to get a rise out of him at this point, but Ike neither forgave nor forgot. He would rather let their friendship burn than let anyone believe they could slide transphobia past him. He and Kyle vowed that they would always stand up for their sister. More importantly, Mom and Dad swore they would never be punished at home for fighting for Marj’s honor. The war was ongoing and they’ve raked in only victories so far. It was just a matter of time before the South Park guys finally realized that a negative word against Marjorine Broflovski would earn them broken bones.

The bell rang to mark the end of recess. Ike heard the clatter of children coming back inside from the perpetual cold. Their voices and footfalls echoed through the halls. Ike watched as they walked past him. He spotted Marj with Wendy and Nichole, her two best friends. They were chatting and giggling at Wendy’s locker. Ike smiled despite the pain. It made him happy to see his sister happy. She deserved it.

Kyle, Stan, and Kenny came strolling through the halls like they owned the place. In a strange way, they did. They were sixth graders now. They were at the top of the food chain and hardly let anyone forget it. They spotted him outside of P.C. Principal’s office and immediately started laughing at him. Ike rolled his eyes. As if the three of them didn’t break Eric Cartman’s arm a few weeks ago for the same reason.

“I guess it’s your time of the month again, Ike.” Kenny joked. 

“This is becoming a habit, dude.” Stan said. “Did you at least fuck him up?”

“Oh yeah.” Ike gloated. “He cried.”

“No, I didn’t.” Filmore’s voice was suspiciously phlegmy.

Kyle regarded Ike’s ex-friend with cold eyes. “Just remember that Marjorine has two brothers. I’m not above kicking a seven-year-old’s ass.”

Filmore sniffled. “I’m nine.”

A palpable silence hovered over them for a moment before Kenny’s raucous laughter broke it.

“You shouldn’t have admitted that, dude.” Stan told him.

“That’s embarrassing for you.” Kyle shook his head. “Great job, Ike.”

Ike grinned. “What can I say? I’m scrappy.”

The bell rang again. Finally, the door to the Principal’s office opened. Ike’s brother and his friends left the hallway empty without a hint of goodbye. P.C. Principal wore his Oakleys, but Ike could still feel his eyes land on him before turning to inspect Filmore Anderson.

“Really?” P.C. Principal asked them. “Again?”

Still Wednesday Morning

After managing to escape Marjorine’s house with their penises intact, Ike drove Kyle and Stan back to the scene of the crime. Ike was very insistent that they take his white Honda Accord instead of Stan’s shitty pick up. First of all, unlike Stan, his vehicle had heated seats. Secondly, without the props he kept in the trunk, his plan wasn’t going to work. 

Ike parked a few meters - yards, you’re back in America now - away from Buca De Faggoncini. He couldn’t see any cops from here. Hopefully that meant the crime scene was still intact. Hot air balloons hovered in the distance. Seeing them twisted his stomach. It disgusted him that a piece of scenery Marjorine was so excited for could have the audacity to look nice on a day like today. Today deserved nothing but gray skies and sleet. Instead, the sky was cloudless and bright blue. Kenny was dead and it sickened him that their environment didn’t reflect that. 

“What’s the plan?” Stan asked from the back seat.

Ike looked back at him, and then to Kyle who was next to him. “If this is going to work,” he began, “then I need you both to trust me and each other. We need to be a team. More importantly, we need to convince whoever’s in that restaurant that we’re a team. Do you understand?”

Stan and Kyle both nodded. They had determination written in their eyes. 

Ike popped the trunk and shut off the engine. “Okay. Come see what I have.”

All three men climbed out of the car and gathered at the trunk. Ike lifted the door to reveal his prop collection. Wigs, prosthetic facial features, theater makeup, and costume pieces littered the compartment. He looked at his brothers. They inspected his hoard with concern.

“Ike, this isn’t the flex I’m sure you thought it was.” Kyle told him.

“Yeah, why do we need any of this?” Stan asked.

“Well,” Ike began digging through the piles and grabbing things as needed. “Kyle and I haven’t been home in a while so we’re less likely to be recognized. You, however, live here, so you need a disguise.”

“But why?” Stan asked again. His voice was laced with irritation.

He held up three fake badges and a mustache. “Because if the cops find out we’re impersonating FBI agents, we’re gonna be brought up on felony charges.”

Ike quite enjoyed watching their faces drain of color. He forgot how fun it was to mess with them. Unfortunately for Stan and Kyle, he was very serious.

“No, no, no.” Stan shook his head. “I can’t go to jail. I have a kid. This is a custody battle waiting to happen.”

“How do you even have those?” Kyle asked.

“They’re props left over from a play I wrote last year. Listen, guys. You’re gonna do great.” Ike told them. “The key to any role is confidence. Just follow my lead and it’ll all be fine.”

“This is a terrible idea, dude.” Stan tried to say, but Ike wasn’t having it.

“What, did you think we were just gonna waltz in there?” He pointed out. “And what would you say to the cops? ‘Hey buddy, mind if we look around for a bit to make sure you did your job right’? They’d kick us out and double security. This is the only way.”

Neither of them had a worthwhile response. It seemed to be dawning on them that the only way they were going to accomplish this was by skirting the law as best they could. That was the eventuality Ike planned for anyways. He had a pretty solid hypothesis formed about what happened last night, but it couldn’t be tested without a little lying.

Eventually Stan conceded with a huff. “Your dad’s paying my bail if I’m arrested.”

“Fine by me.” He agreed to his terms. “Kyle, are you in?”

Ike knew his big brother would be a hard sell. Kyle has been the moral compass of every friend group he’d ever been in. He tried -and frequently failed- to prevent people from doing stupid shit, and he was always quick with an ‘I told you so’ once the consequences came knocking. Ike has been on the receiving end of this pattern enough times to predict when a lecture was coming on. That’s why it was surprising that Kyle simply agreed without a fuss.

He recovered from the shock quickly and passed out the fake badges. Luckily they were all dressed fairly professionally, so it wasn’t totally unbelievable that they were federal agents. He and Kyle had the good sense to go home last night, so they were wearing clean clothes. Kyle wore a sports jacket, a button up, and a pair of khakis like the business man he was. Ike was wearing a nice crewneck sweater, a pressed pair of slacks, and his loafers. Stan was the most disheveled out of all of them. He still wore the majority of his rehearsal suit- who knew where that tie went- but it was wrinkled after a sleepless night. If Stan was a good actor, he’d be able to spin his appearance into a character trait.

He gave Stan the fake mustache, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “So your solution for me being recognized is to make me look like my dad?”

“Yeah.” Ike nodded. “Put it on.”

Stan obeyed, placing the sticky adhesive against his upper lip. “So, do I look like Randy?”

Ike didn’t miss how Kyle’s eyes blew wide. He decided to keep that information in his back pocket for now. Instead, he turned to Stan and spoke to him as if he were stupid. “Who the fuck is Randy?”

“You know he’s….” Stan began with an offended tone, but then smiled when he caught on. “Oh, you’re good .”

“And you’re ready.” He slammed the trunk closed. “Let’s go.”

The three men did in fact run into the authorities pretty early on. As soon as they opened the doors, they found two cops inside. It wasn’t clear what they were supposed to be doing there aside from maybe standing guard. 

The two officers turned to them with disinterest. “Gentlemen, you have to leave. This is a crime scene.”

“We know.” Ike flashed his badge at them. No need for them to get a good look. “Agent Anderson, FBI. These two are my compatriots, Motts and Zeigler. This is our crime scene now.”

The two cops looked at each other in confusion. “What does the FBI want with an accidental shooting?”

“Oh, did you deem it accidental?” Agent Anderson was probably too sarcastic for his own good. He had to reel it in. “It wasn’t, I assure you. Who’s on this case?”

“Uh, Detective Harris is.” One of the cops answered. “But it was closed this morning. He already called the family and everything.”

Behind him, Motts and Zeigler sighed in frustration. Zeigler specifically was exhausted from driving all night to get there. That man has been solely subsisting on gas station coffee and Camels for the past month and a half. He shouldn’t be fucked with.

Anderson gave them a tight smile. “I assume neither of you are Detective Harris, then?”

Both cops shook their heads like children would.

“Do me a favor and get him back up here. Have him bring the case file with him.” He looked to his partners. “Let's get started, boys.”

The three of them split up to look for clues as one of the cops ran off. The dining room was just how they left it last night. Tables and chairs were upended. Dishware was broken and scattered about. There was still a massive puddle of blood on the ground in front of the long table. Anderson swallowed down the sudden burning in his throat. 

Motts was up ahead, inspecting the window. The picture window was split into nine panels. Only the top right one was broken. It wasn’t completely shattered either. Anderson recognized it as bulletproof glass. There was a hole pierced through from the impact. Not effective enough to save the victim’s life, of course. Why would an Italian restaurant need bulletproof glass, anyways? Anderson watched as Motts pulled out a pad and paper out of his coat pocket -those weren’t props that Ike had given him, Kyle was just a nerd who kept those kinds of things on his person- and began jotting down notes. 

“Tell us about the victim, Officer.” Anderson requested.

“Uh, Kenneth McCormick, twenty-six year old male. Went by Kenny.” The remaining cop spoke. “Last night was his rehearsal dinner. He was supposed to get married over the weekend.”

Anderson frowned. “This is a small town. You know him?”

The cop nodded. “We were acquainted. He owned an auto shop, but he lived outside of town. Real friendly guy.”

“Did this Kenny have any enemies?” 

He frowned. “I wouldn’t know, really. All I can say is that I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about him. That doesn’t mean much, though. People can hate in silence.”

“That’s very true, Officer…” Anderson glanced down at his badge. “Davis. Thank you for your insight.”

Motts spoke up then, tapping his pen against his chin in thought. “How tall was he?”

Officer Davis shrugged. “Over six feet, but I couldn’t say for sure. Six-foot-four if I had to guess.”

He hummed thoughtfully and then re-examined the window. “The bullet came in at a negative angle. I’d estimate maybe about 40 degrees.”

“W-why does that matter?” Officer Davis asked.

“It proves that our victim was at a lower elevation than the person who killed him.” Anderson explained. “Officer Davis, could you tell me how Detective Harris came to the conclusion that Kenny McCormick’s death was accidental?”

“Oh well, we’ve got a lot of ranchers who keep their cattle in that valley yonder.” He inclined his head towards the window. “Sometimes when the ranchers are putting their heifers down, a stray bullet will go flying. It’s a pretty common occurrence. No one came forward about it, so departmental policy dictates any related deaths be classified as ‘accidental’.”

Anderson and Motts didn’t exchange looks, Ike and Kyle did. They tried to keep their faces even, but they were both mentally screaming the same thing: The South Park Police were so fucking stupid . Then the moment passed and Ike slipped back into his character with ease. Kyle had to turn away for a moment to regain his composure. He pretended to write some more notes down. 

Anderson forced a smile. “I suppose that does make some things easier. I can’t imagine much crime happens out here.”

Officer Davis frowned over at Motts. “What’s his deal, anyways? Doesn’t seem like much of a cop.”

They had time to kill while they waited for Detective Harris to show up with the file. Why not practice his improv skills? Anderson drew up some bitterness into his tone. “Well, I think if his life had gone a bit better, he wouldn’t be.”

For all his idiocy, Officer Davis at least had the decorum to regret his words. “Oh jeez, I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. He was some kinda wiz kid back in New York. Won city wide math awards and shit. Then his uncle got involved in something he shouldn’t have and ended up with a prescription of quiet pills in his gut. Ever since then he’s decided to hunt down killers.”

“Oh wow.” Officer Davis was completely enthralled and Ike’s ego was thriving.

“I’m fully convinced he could be curing cancer if law enforcement hadn’t called to him. I’m just glad he’s on our side.”

“Must you tell my life story to everyone who asks?” Motts shot him an annoyed look.

Anderson threw his arms into the air. “You want this TV show or not, Hunter?”

Motts just scoffed and rolled his eyes. Suddenly, there were some knocking sounds against the window. At some point, Zeigler decided to galavant outside. Clearly he found something to investigate, as well as a ladder from somewhere? He gestured for them to come outside, which they did. 

Anderson braced against the cold mountain air into the valley behind the restaurant. He was surprised to notice that the rear of the building was actually on stilts- it definitely wasn’t in the front, nor could anyone tell from inside. The wooden beams had to be three or four feet tall. Zeigler was much higher up than it previously appeared. 

“Find something?” Motts asked him.

“There’s a second bullet hole up here in the stucco above the window.” He called down. 

Suddenly, the back door they just came through slammed open again and Detective Harris busted through the back door with an attitude. He wore his badge on a pair of suspenders and kept his Glock 9 in a hip holster. Guns would have made this more realistic, Ike thought idly. Despite his clear irritation, he at least brought the file folder.

“What is the meaning of this?” He shouted as he came down the back stairs. 

Anderson and Motts flashed him their badges. “Agents Anderson and Motts, FBI. That’s our partner Zeigler that you nearly knocked down. I assume you’re Detective Harris.”

“The name’s Sergeant Harrison Yates, thank you very much. Got a promotion a while back.” Yates informed them with clear annoyance that he had to. “I closed this case. What right do you have to reopen it?”

Anderson felt his own anger reaching a fever pitch. “The right of the Federal government! Damn it man, don’t you know a murder when you see one?”

The anger on Yates’ face slid into shock. “What? Murder? What evidence do you have to support that?”

“More than you have to declare this death accidental.” Motts answered in his characteristic monotone. 

“Listen, I’m going to let you in on something highly classified.” Anderson told Yates. “We believe that Kenny McCormick was murdered. This is the fourth hot air balloon murder in as many months. Topeka, Kansas. Eureka Springs, Arkansas. Paducah, Kentucky, and now South Park, Colorado. Four towns that no one cares about. Four towns that held a hot air balloon festival. Four dead. Are you seeing a pattern here, Sergeant?”

“We may be dealing with a serial killer. We need all the help we can get to bring this fucker to justice before he strikes again.” Zeigler said from his perch. His mustache looked very natural from up there. “I also need a light.”

Davis looked like he might be sick, but swallowed it down and gave Stan his duty flashlight. Yates handed over the file with no further complaint. Anderson saw the fear in his eyes. He couldn’t blame him. He’s been in this line of work long enough to see plenty of these small town hot shots fizzle out. Anderson opened the file and Ike was immediately barraged with images of Kenny’s broken skull and lifeless eyes. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t expect to see those when he came up with this plan. He was less sure about why it was so upsetting to see pictures of the murder when he saw it happen live. Ike had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from having an emotional reaction.

Anderson cleared his throat, moved the photos to the back of the file, and read the report. “Confirmed height six-foot-four. Time of death 8:09 pm. Was it already dark out by then?”

Yates nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Anderson flipped through official reports and witness testimonies. Obviously everyone in that room witnessed the murder, but no one could see who the murderer was. They waited for night to fall, watched them all through the well-lit picture window, and then blended back into their surroundings once the deed was done. The very idea sent shivers down his spine. There was no question that Kenny’s death was premeditated.

“That would explain why he missed.” Zeigler called out. “There’s a round embedded in this wall. I think a steel beam stopped it.”

“It’s not like our perp to miss.” Anderson said thoughtfully.

“It’s not like our perp to strike at night.” Motts countered. “What else is in that file?”

“We found a single .223 casing out in the field.” Sergeant Yates provided more pivotal information. “Sandbags as well. We didn’t know where they came from at first. Your hot air balloon theory would explain it.”

“He cuts them off the basket to make a quick getaway.” Anderson pondered. “A tell-tale sign at each of his crime scenes.”

Motts searched the wide valley behind them, his hand on his forehead to shield his eyes from the daylight. “Where did you find those things exactly?”

“We set up a marker.” Officer Davis pointed to the tiny slip of neon orange in the far distance. 

He heaved a sigh. “I’m gonna need a tape measure.”

With Motts taking measurements, Zeigler trying to pry a bullet out of steel, and members of the SP PD attempting to assist, Ike finally had a moment to himself to think about the other massive problem his family was facing: What the hell was he going to do about Stan and Kyle?

It wasn’t lost on Ike that yesterday was the first time those two had been in a room together in nearly a decade. Shit, their friendship has been broken for almost half his life. It felt good to see them together again. They always were the ride-or-die type for each other. With the exception of the occasional fight, they were always attached to the hip. That was why Ike felt so conflicted on how he should proceed. He had two options as far as he could see: he could help these two repair their relationship, or he could win a bet he placed when he was twelve. 

Ike was extremely certain that if he didn’t get involved, Kyle would go back to Jersey and that would be it. It didn’t take a psychologist to tell that he was depressed. Ike didn’t know how depressed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that they would never hear from him again. A pit grew in his stomach at the thought of his big brother vanishing like that. Kyle had this far off look in his eyes like he didn’t want to be anywhere at all. Ike was afraid to know how deep that wanting went. 

Stan would be fine if Kyle left, but fine was all Stan really was. All he did was raise his daughter and work. Ike couldn’t remember the last time he did something for himself. He knew that Stan really grieved their friendship and probably wanted it back. A rekindling would probably be good for both of them, especially now that Kenny was gone. They needed each other now more than ever.

Naturally, all of this was secondhand to the absolute eye fucking these two have been doing all morning. Neither one of them could seemingly stop finding the other attractive. Ike couldn’t blame either of them, to be fair. They both turned out to be handsome men- nothing in comparison to the absolute Adonis he grew up to be, but he digressed. There was no room for platonic feelings between them anymore. If Ike meddled, he would be pushing Stan and Kyle into a full-fledged romance. Of course, neither of them have ever come out to him, but he knew they were some flavor of queer. He was an actor. He’s been working with some of the queerest people alive for a very long time. Hell, he’s even had stage kisses with other dudes. Ike had an honorary gaydar - no one set that bitch off more than Stan and Kyle did.

On the other hand, twenty bucks was twenty bucks. There were a few downsides to that path. First: it was supposed to be forty, but one of the participants is now dead. Second: he couldn’t ask Marj for the winnings. She was a grieving widow. That was just low even for him. He remembered just how tore up she was earlier. Why would he ever cause her more pain?

Thirdly - and it truly hurt Ike to say this- no amount of money was more important than Kyle’s happiness.

Ike was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice them approaching until Zeigler was all but kicking his shoe. He jolted back into reality with a start. His partners stood around him in a way that would prevent anyone from seeing what they were saying. That suited them just fine considering how they broke character immediately.

“What kind of gay ass name is Hunter Motts?” Kyle whisper-yelled at him with a disgusted face. “We could have discussed fake names before we went in, dude.”

Ike grinned at him. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“You got a first name?” Stan seemed disappointed. 

“There wasn’t an opportunity to give you one." He shrugged. "You disappeared immediately.”

“Can we also talk about how you gave me the backstory of Peter fucking Parker?” Kyle wasn’t letting it go. “You made me look super lame.”

“No, your acting made you look super lame.” Ike told him. “It was honestly a great performance. Bravo.”

His brother rolled his eyes. “I hate you so much.”

“You adore me. Did the two of you find what you were looking for?”

Stan nodded and held up his phone. “We got the bullet out and the cops took it. I think they’re gonna run some tests on it, but I got some pics first.”

“I’ve found out a lot too, but I think we should discuss this elsewhere.” Kyle said. “This place is really starting to get to me. We’ve been here too long.”

Ike’s stomach rumbled. “Great timing. I’m hungry. Let’s get some chicken nuggets.”

“Did anyone eat the breakfast I made this morning?” Kyle muttered under his breath.

“I put the starving in ‘starving artist’. Let’s go.” 

He followed Kyle and Stan out of the restaurant, all the while noticing how they refused to even really look at each other despite how badly they both clearly wanted to. It really was no contest. Ike would do whatever he could while his brother was still in town to get these two idiots together. 

It was time to muckrake.

Chapter Text

Kyle had been in a shitty mood all week and everyone noticed. He was fifteen then, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary for someone his age to be feeling down. Despite what his friends and family seemed to think, however, this didn’t feel like something he could get past. His heart was shattered. He could nearly hear the loose pieces tinkling around in his chest- he definitely felt them cutting into his flesh every time he saw his best friend.

Marjorine wasn’t having it. She practically dragged him into the bathroom for another shampooing session after school one day. Kyle didn’t have the energy to fight her off this time.  Mom and Dad weren’t home, and Ike had some sort of production he was working on. It was just the two of them. She locked the bathroom door just in case. Kyle assumed the usual position- cross legged on the floor, back up against the tub, neck thrown back as far as it’ll go. He noticed that this position was becoming more uncomfortable as they got older. Marj was in the process of convincing their parents to get a hair washing sink installed. It wasn’t going well.

“Alright, spill it.” She demanded over the sound of the tub running. “You haven’t spoken in days. Something’s bothering you.”

He stayed silent against the tide of emotions. How could he even begin to explain? Everything felt fragile and jagged. There was no telling where the words would go if he let them out. He wasn’t certain he could find the words in the first place. 

“You can trust me.” Marj’s tone was softer. “I won’t even tell Kenny if you don’t want me to.”

Kyle shot her a dirty look. “Do you normally tell him my personal shit?”

“Ah, there he is.” She smiled down at him. It did actually make him feel a little better. “Kenny worries just like I do. But if you don’t want me to say anything to him, I won’t. These shampoo sessions are sacred.”

“You promise not to say a word to anyone?”

“For as long as I live.” She swore. “Stylist’s honor.”

He huffed out a sigh, because that definitely wasn’t a real thing. Still, she was one of the few people he could actually talk to about this. They’ve already been through so much already. Their siblingship started out as a real trial by fire. Now those links were forged in steel and nothing could break them. Kyle felt confident that Marjorine would take his secrets to his grave. 

He took a deep breath and worded it the best way he could. “Stan and Wendy are going out.”

“I know.” She gently reminded him. “You’re not happy for them, are you?” 

Disappointment and bitterness crashed into him in waves. His eyes burned. “No, I’m really not.”

Marjorine scrubbed at his scalp. “You sound very jealous, Kyle.”

“I’m the shittiest friend on the planet.” He sniffled. “I wish I could put it behind me, but this whole thing makes me feel so sick. I can’t look at them together. I just see green.”

“I didn’t know you had feelings for Wendy.” She said with a hint of confusion. “I’m sure I could have set the two of you up if you told me sooner.”

“Oh.” Kyle was surprised to hear her say that. He blushed at the implication, “Um. Wendy isn’t the one I have feelings for.”

Her hands stilled as his words sank in. “Oh my god. You’re gay?”

“I’m bi.” He couldn’t meet her eyes anymore. “Not that the distinction matters. He’s all I can think about all the time. It never ends. Everything he does sets me on fire. His laughter when I tell a joke, the way his eyes crinkle in the corners when he smiles-” He covered his face with his hands. “God, even the way he fucking drinks water is a turn on. I couldn’t tell you why.”

“This isn’t just a crush.” Marjorine realized. “You’re in love with him.”

“Yeah.” Inexplicable guilt clogged up his throat. “And he’s in love with someone else.”

She went quiet for a while as she rinsed him out. Finally, she said “I think you should tell him.”

A cruel laugh escaped him. “You think I should tell him ? You know he’s straight. I would be torpedoing our friendship to smithereens. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Does he even know that you’re bi?”

“You are the only person on the planet who knows.” Kyle told her. “And it’s staying that way.”

Marj exhaled through the nose. “First of all, I don’t think that your friendship will end. It would be awkward as hell for a while, but the two of you have been besties since you were in diapers. Both of you can get past this. Telling him would help you get over him, and you should get over him because if he’s as straight as you claim he’ll never want you that way.”

He knew she was right. Stan would never want him the way Kyle did. That acknowledgement cut him to the god damned bone. “I don’t want him to know.”

“You can’t keep this in.” She continued. “Take it from someone who knows. Hiding your true self withers the spirit away. You’ll only hurt yourself more in the long run.”

“I don’t want to lose him.” That was the only thing he was certain of.

“Do you honestly think Stan Marsh of all people would be shallow enough to drop you over your sexuality?” Marj asked him. 

“No,” Kyle answered. “Stan Marsh would drop me because I’ve been hiding this from him since the fifth grade. We swore no secrets.”

She towel dried his hair in quiet contemplation. “Do you at least feel better now that you’ve told someone?”

Make that two things Kyle was certain of. “No.” 

Wednesday Afternoon

It felt strange to roll up to a McDonalds with everything that was happening. It seemed too casual of a place for three men to discuss a murder, but Ike was driving so he got to choose. This restaurant was fairly busy, which provided them with some cover. People would be concerned to overhear their discussion. 

Ike ordered for them. Kyle knew he was broke and had no issues footing the bill. He handed Ike a twenty dollar bill to pay with, but Ike just ended up pocketing it. Stan laughed at Ike’s look of innocence. Kyle’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes still crinkled in the corners when he smiled as if Kyle needed more emotional turmoil. It wasn’t fair how fucking hot Stan has become. Recently removed fake mustache notwithstanding, that man aged like a fine wine. His dark hair was windswept and messy. His five o’clock shadow did little to hide his face flushed from the cold. Kyle couldn’t bask in it for long before the guilt hit him like a truck. Kenny was dead and there he was shamelessly fiending for his brother. How much lower could he get?

They found a clean, empty table and began to discuss their findings. Stan pulled out his phone and showed them photos he took of the scene: the bullet freed from the wall and the casing found by the police. “This is a .223. These two pieces make up a full round, but we can’t prove that they came from the same round. The police have both bullets, but we’re missing a casing.”

“Any clue where the second one went?” Ike asked while shoving french fries into his mouth.

“Well, if your theory is correct, I would guess that it didn’t make it out of the basket.” Stan answered. “I was doing some reading earlier about the ejection patterns of the AR-15 that got me thinking about who could have killed him. They definitely don't have much experience shooting. Not only did the first shot miss, but I think the casing ejected at a weird angle because they didn’t know how to properly handle their weapon.”

Kyle nodded, remembering when he was once burned by hot brass while on a hunting trip with Stan, Kenny, Jimbo, and Ned. He wasn’t much of a marksman himself and Stan hated shooting at animals, so they spent that weekend miserable and cold. His heart ached thinking of that time in his life and how he could never have that again. “How do you know it’s an AR-15?”

“I don’t.” He said with a shrug. “I’m making a safe bet based on the evidence. They’re extremely accessible rifles. Lots of companies make their own versions. Plus, it would be weird for a murderer to use a unique firearm. It would be easier to link them to the crime.”

“Your gun knowledge has really come in clutch.” Ike said. “It’s almost kind of scary.”

Stan fixed him with an annoyed look. "I've literally won awards."

Ike turned his attention back to Kyle. "What did you find?” 

Kyle took the tray liner and flipped it to the blank side. He pulled out a pencil and a protractor from his coat pocket. His companions laughed but he ignored them. “So the cops found the sandbags 123.8 feet away from the exterior of the building. The bullet broke the glass at 37 degrees and hit Kenny at a height of nine-foot-two including the height of the building. Taking those measurements, we can determine how high up the balloon was.”

With some simple calculations and some pretty shitty drawings, he was able to prove that the balloon was 93.3 feet in the air at the time of the murder. “There. If we could recreate the crime, we should be able to prove without a shadow of a doubt that it wasn’t accidental.”

Stan and Ike stared at him like he suddenly grew a second head. He felt his face redden under their gaze. “What?”

“I forgot how smart you are.” Stan’s voice was so quiet it was almost inaudible.

“It’s just basic trigonometry.” Kyle brushed off his compliment. “It’s not very difficult.”

Ike elbowed Stan harder than necessary. “I’m pretty sure he tutored both of us in trig, remember?”

Stan shot Ike a dirty look as he rubbed his arm. “Uh, yeah.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. Suddenly, Ike propped his head up on his hands and looked at both of them with an uncharacteristic wistfulness. “I know that the circumstances really suck right now, but I gotta say it’s really good to see the two of you in the same room again.”

Oh, Kyle did not like where this was going. He ate a nugget to avoid speaking. Stan seemed to have a similar idea, because he stayed silent.

“It’s just so crazy how the two of you took completely different paths in life, yet you have so much in common.” He continued. “For example, Stan had a failed marriage and Kyle had a failed engagement.”

Kyle snapped his neck over to his traitorous brother, his anger boiling over. That was a very touchy subject- and one that only a handful of people knew about. “Shut your fucking mouth, Ike.”

Stan was staring at him, mouth agape and nearly scandalized. Kyle could see half-eaten food in there. He didn’t want to analyze right then why he didn’t find it disgusting. “Holy shit, you were engaged?”

“Pass.” He said. “We’re not talking about that.”

Scandal turned to annoyance real quick. “Okay, then tell me why you left.”

“Hard pass.” Kyle’s eyes drifted to Stan’s left hand for the dozenth time since last night. There was no ring. He knew Stan and Wendy divorced several years ago. Marj told him when it happened, but he didn't want to know the reason why at the time. It wasn’t his business. Now he wondered if Stan’s relationship ended for a similar reason that his relationship with Heidi ended. Ike grouped them together like they were related, but he and Wendy seemed to get along fine last night.

“I told you we weren’t done talking about this.” Stan narrowed those beautiful blue eyes at him. His heart lurched. He hated how conflicted he felt. He hated that he wasn’t any better even all these years later. 

“We have more important things to worry about.” Kyle told him. “Like solving your brother’s murder.”

“Don’t try to deflect.” Stan accused. “I can worry about multiple things at once. I want to know why Kenny died and why my best friend stabbed me in the back.”

In that instant, his anger and embarrassment fizzled into nothing. All that was left was a shame so disabling he nearly froze in place. “Is that how you see it? I stabbed you in the back?”

“You left town on my fucking wedding day, dude.” Stan crossed his arms. “If that’s not a back stabbing, I don’t know what is.”

Kyle really didn’t have a response to that. All this time, he’d thought he was the one most hurt by that exchange. He hadn’t really considered how Stan would have felt after. Every time he felt even a tinge of guilt about it, he always reminded himself that Stan had a wife and child to comfort him. The truth was that Kyle did stab him in the back. He just didn’t see it that way until now.

“I’m sor-” He tried, but Stan cut him off.

“I don’t want apologies, I want explanations.” He told him. “Anything less is a waste of time.”

Kyle swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. He knew Stan deserved to know the truth. At this point, aside from the absolute mortification, there was no reason for him not to know. He was leaving on Sunday. It wouldn’t be the first time he left South Park decimated, but it would be the last. His mountain man fantasy was looking more reasonable by the second.

“Woof.” Ike finally said. “That was a lot. I hate seeing you fight. It distracts from the other things you have in common.”

“Jesus Christ, what now?” Stan hissed at him.

“Well, you both are-” Ike began, but then cut himself off. “Actually, no. I shouldn’t say. It’s rude to out people.”

It took Kyle a second to for the meaning of Ike’s words to hit him. Suddenly, he was choking on his food and Stan was coughing up Sprite. Thoughts spiraled in his mind like ants. How the fuck did Ike know ? He never told anyone but Marj and she wasn’t a narc. He’d thought he’d covered his tracks so well. And Stan? Both of them? That didn’t make mathematical sense. Stan was straight! Football-playing, church-going, acoustic-guitar-renditions-of-System-of-A-Down straight. There was no way on God’s green earth he was gay. He married a woman and had a baby with her. He’s lived the straightest life possible. No fucking way.

Before Kyle could say that he would need to create a scavenger hunt for the authorities to be able to locate all the individual pieces of his body, Ike got up from the table. “I gotta piss. I’m sure the two of you have a lot to talk about.”

Kyle watched him leave, suddenly too terrified to turn his head. There was no god damn way. Stan was straight. There was no way he was gay. If he was, then the two of them just wasted years of their lives apart when they could have been together. Kyle ruined their friendship over --.

“Kyle.” Stan knocked him back into reality. “Please just look at me.”

His neck turned of its own accord. Their eyes met. Holy shit, it was true. Stan’s eyes- still breathtaking all these years later- had that fear there. The fear of being known, of being recognized as queer, of not knowing who to trust with that information. He’s seen it before in random partners, but more often than not, he’s seen it in the mirror. 

Ike was a dead man walking.

“When I called you a faggot that day, I didn’t think you actually were one.” Stan tried to explain. “I was angry with you and I just… Like you said, we both said some things that we regret.”

“You’re gay.” Those were the only words Kyle could force himself to say.

His cheeks reddened in the most adorable way. “I… uh… I never put a label on it, but I guess that works.”

“Holy shit, dude.” Laughter bubbled up and boiled over. He had so many questions, but suddenly words wouldn’t come out. He found himself keeled over the arm of his seat, cackling so hard he couldn’t breathe. The fucking irony of this whole situation had tears rolling down his face. People were definitely staring now. 

“What’s so funny?” Stan, who absolutely did not find any humor in anything going on that day, demanded to know.

Kyle couldn’t answer him due to his inability to breathe. He could barely wave his concerns away. When Stan replied with an “of course you’re not going to explain anything”, he just ended up laughing harder. He couldn’t believe his luck. He lost the man he was in love with years ago, and when he comes back to town later on that same man is single and into dudes. It was like something out of a cheesy Hallmark movie. 

Ike returned to the table. "So, how's it going?"

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Stan hissed at him. "That was really fucked."

“Oops.” Ike shrugged like a 90’s sitcom. “My bad.”

Kyle finally managed to calm down enough to wipe away his tears. “Man, I haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

“You’re both such dicks.” Stan was nearly shouting now. “It’s like you keep trying to one-up each other. The Broflovski men are consistently the worst people in this entire fucking town.”

“Wow, worse than Randy?” Ike teased him. 

“Who the fuck is Randy!?” Stan’s retort was downright venomous. A chill went down Kyle’s spine.

Ike nodded his head in approval. “Nicely done. No notes.”

Silence fell over the group. Kyle sat back and digested their situation. Kenny was dead, his murderer was on the loose, and the three of them were the only people with the puzzle pieces to unmask them. His rapidly returning feelings for Stan only complicated things. He simultaneously wanted to squash those feelings and bask in them. Things were so fucked. Probably to the great relief of everyone in that McDonald’s, they cleared off their table and headed out the door. Kyle folded up his little math problem and tucked it into one of his coat pockets. If things went well for them, this could end up being a key piece of evidence at trial. He followed the other two men out into the cold. For the first time in a long time, he felt hope.

Chapter Text

When Butters told them he wanted to be a girl, Stan laughed. When he said he was serious, Stan stopped. Butters was always different from the other boys. He was strange before the trial, but Stan assumed a lot of his behavior was from whatever fucked shit his parents did to him. But wanting to be a girl? Well, actually, that made more sense. Butters started playing with dolls, wearing the color pink, and - according to his brothers- screamed and cried whenever anyone suggested a haircut. Kyle reacted differently. Instead of laughing or hitting Stan for laughing, he just immediately accepted it like it was no big deal. Then he grew quiet and contemplative. Stan knew that he had a plan brewing. It took a few days for the wheels to start turning, then suddenly the three of them were going around and inviting all the girls in their grade to come over to the Broflovski house after school.

To their credit, the majority of them showed up. They all stood in the kitchen, whispering amongst themselves. Kyle, Stan, and Kenny stood together, ready to address their questions.

“Okay, will you tell us all why you’ve asked us to come here?” Wendy demanded to know.

Kyle looked nervously at his friends. “Well, uhh, I need to ask you all a favor. This is kind of… unprecedented.”

The girls muttered to each other in confusion. 

“What is it?” Red asked.

“Well you all know that my parents adopted Butters a while ago. I guess now that he’s comfortable, he….” Kyle’s sentence drifted off. He put his hand to his mouth in thought, clearly uncertain how to phrase what he wanted to say.

Stan rolled his eyes at his best friend’s hesitation. “Butters wants to be a girl. She wants to be called Marjorine.”

“Yeah.” Kenny agreed, maybe a bit too eagerly. “We want you girls to be cool to him- uh, her. Maybe show her the ropes.”

The reaction from the girls was mixed. There were looks of confusion and disgust among the crowd. A couple of them even laughed.

“You can’t just become a girl!” One of them insisted. 

“Yeah, what gives him the right?” Another asked.

“We actually did a lot of reading about this.” Stan held his hands up in the air. “Doctors and scientists say that transgender kids should be allowed to be the gender they want to be. It’ll be good for him- her.”

“Do you even have any evidence that Butters wants to be a girl?” Nichole asked.

“Marjorine.” Kenny corrected.

With that, Kyle pulled back the curtains of their sliding glass doors and opened one for all to see. Marjorine was in the backyard, singing Chicago to a couple of squirrels up in a tree. She was wearing a pink, tulle princess dress. Her hair was nearly down to her shoulders now. Any random stranger coming across that scene would never know the difference. The girls stared intensely.

“Does that look like a boy to you?” Kyle asked the group.

None of the girls spoke. They just looked at the newest member of their gender with a mixture of awe, shock, and horror.

Marjorine noticed that she had an audience and waved over to them. “Hi, girls! Hi, Kyle! Do you need something?”

The girls politely waved back, but said nothing.

“No, Marjorine.” Kyle shouted. “Go back to playing.”

She beamed at hearing her chosen name being used. “Okay!”

He shut the door and returned the curtains to their original position.

“Listen, we’re not asking for much.” Stan said. “You don’t have to be best friends or anything, but it would mean a lot to Kyle if you included her in girl stuff.”

“I really need your help with this.” Kyle added. “We also have to think about what the other guys are gonna do when they find out. I think they’ll have an easier time accepting that she’s not a boy anymore if you girls are willing to let her join.”

“What, like human shields?” Heidi accused.

“Kinda, yeah.” Kenny said. Stan punched him in the arm.

“You are asking a lot of us.” Bebe added. “I mean, Butters has always been a weirdo.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Kyle muttered under his breath. “She’s been through a lot. You all know she has. I know she can be strange, but at least now we know why. She’s my sister now and I have to protect her. You know some of these guys would beat the shit out of her if they could. Hell, I had to jump through hoops so she didn’t get her ass kicked when she was still a boy. All I need is for you to be nice to her, make her feel included, and teach her how to be a girl. Please.”

Most of the girls seemed convinced after his speech, but there were a few holdouts. Annie spoke up. “Okay, but what if this is just a phase Butters is going through?”

Kyle was offended by the question. “Excuse me?”

“What if he only wants to be a girl for a little while and then he decides to go back to being a boy?”

Stan blinked at her the way he did when someone asked a remarkably stupid question. “Then you were cool to someone who really needed it at the time. You know, like a decent person would do.”

“Do you normally need a reason to be nice, Annie?” Kyle asked.

That was not a response that made Annie happy.

“Well, I’ll be her friend.” Nichole said. “I always thought Butters was nice. Maybe I’ll like Marjorine, too.”

Wendy smiled. Stan’s heart flipped in his chest. “Me, too. Nichole, we should go out and say hi.”

The two of them went into the backyard, calling out for Marjorine. Stan was left with the typical  love sickness he felt whenever Wendy was around. Kenny nudged him back into reality. The rest of the girls eventually agreed to be cool and left. Stan joined Kyle and Kenny, who were watching the three girls play in the background.

“That was easier than I expected.” Stan said.

“It’s gonna be harder to convince the guys.” Kyle agreed with a sigh. “Cartman’s gonna be such an asshole about this.”

“Who gives a shit what Cartman thinks?” He scoffed. “He’s gonna be a dick no matter what we do.”

“I know. We have to protect her from him. She’s sensitive.” 

Kenny replied with an uncharacteristic grimness. “If he tries anything, I’ll put him in the fucking ground.”

Stan and Kyle shared a look, and turned back to Kenny. Kyle laughed. “Holy shit, dude. Do you have a crush?”

Wednesday Afternoon

The three men went their separate ways after lunch to gather the necessary supplies. Kyle was going to rent a balloon. Ike said he knew where to get a mannequin, which concerned Stan greatly. What a weird dude he turned out to be. A real dick, too. Stan still couldn’t believe he fucking outed them to each other. He rationalized very quickly that he couldn’t dwell on that, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. Kyle was right that they had to prioritize finding out what happened over everything else. Stan has gotten really good over the years at shoving thoughts about Kyle out of his head. He doesn’t want to think about why that was harder now than it used to be.

Ike dropped him off in front of Jimbo’s Guns. Entering, Stan noticed that Jimbo had multiple customers. It looked like he and Ned would actually make some money today. He tried to sneak past his uncles and get what he needed, but that never worked out in his favor. Every time he stopped by, Jimbo always asked him when he planned to take over the shop. It was a conversation that never failed to make Stan cringe. While he appreciated his uncle’s willingness to secure his future, he didn’t want to sell guns for a living. Fuck, he barely wanted to work on cars. He just took the job Kenny offered him as a way to get out of the endless roulette of serving shifts. Stan never had the opportunity to decide a career for himself and he didn’t want to be pigeonholed before he even got a shot.

“Stan!” Jimbo seemed to hone in on him from twenty feet away. He had those old hunter’s eyes that could see even the slightest movement for miles.

He mentally kicked himself before turning. “Hi. I just came for my AR.”

Jimbo let Ned take over the counter and approached him with a wide smile. Stan immediately thought that it was weird how jovial he was. It was a dark day for the Marsh-Kern family. It wasn’t like Jimbo didn’t know that Kenny was dead- he was definitely there last night with everyone else. He was forced to bear witness just like the rest of them. Then again, he wasn’t the kind of man to take things super seriously anyways. Based on his stories, he saw worse in Vietnam.

“If it isn’t my favorite nephew.” Jimbo greeted him. 

Stan tried to match his energy and failed. He just couldn’t find it in him to be happy. “I thought Kenny was your favorite.”

“What, I can’t have two favorites?” Jimbo asked him with a playful nudge.

This struck Stan as odd, but he brushed it off. He walked to the far wall of the store where the gun lockers were kept. It was actually Stan’s idea to get those installed. He didn’t want to keep his AR-15 in his apartment where his curious daughter would be likely to find it. In fact, he once found her trying to crack the gun safe he used to keep in the closet. Lucy somehow got it in her head that there were precious jewels inside and refused to be dissuaded when he explained that wasn’t the case. Stan no longer felt comfortable with it in their home because she was smart enough to eventually figure out that the combination was his birthday. Moreover, she was definitely curious enough to try to figure out how a rifle worked while his back was turned. So, Stan pitched the idea to his uncles and now he pays five bucks a month to dodge that bullet.

“There’s a wait for lanes if you wanna shoot.” He heard Jimbo say as he opened up his locker.

Stan sorted through his belongings. His Palmetto State Armory AR-15, kept well oiled and well loved, clips that he kept loaded with rounds of .223, an ammo box filled with more rounds, his headphones and safety goggles, and a roll of paper targets. He kept a gun bag in there somewhere, but it was probably buried under everything else. It wasn’t exactly organized. He grabbed his gun to test out his red dot. The batteries were still fresh. His PSA was unloaded with the safety on, yet he still maintained his trigger control out of mild anxiety rather than habit. His stomach churned as he thought about aiming his weapon on anything even remotely humanoid. How could anyone do that to a person? 

“I don’t need a lane.” Stan finally said as he dug for his bag. It was underneath all the other shit, just as he’d suspected. 

Jimbo watched him as he packed his case up. He could nearly feel the concern rippling off his uncle. “What are you planning?”

“Tell nobody.” Kyle had said. Stan barely heard him. He was too preoccupied watching his lips form syllables.

His eyes wandered past his uncle to the opposing wall where they kept the award case. Trophies from the gun club's victories on a state and national level, well illuminated and frequently dusted, rested within. There was a photo inside of Stan, after he won second place in the American Legion 3-Position Air Rifle National Championship. He won a thousand dollar college scholarship that he never got to use. It was a bitter reminder of what he didn’t get to have, and that his best wasn't good enough. Kyle posed with him in it. They were sixteen then. Things were so much simpler back then. He's been spending the last eight years not looking at that picture of them, but now he felt it fully. Anger-grief-shame, anger-grief-shame, anger-grief-shame.

“How did you figure out you were gay?” Stan suddenly asked, trying to silence the tide of emotions.

Jimbo furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m not gay.”

“Right.” Because Jimbo Kern and Ned Gerblansky were married because of the trauma bond and the tax benefits, not because they loved each other.  Stan never ever walked in on them making out in the back of the store when they should have stocking merchandise. Nope, not once. “Don’t know why I asked.”

“Are you feeling gay, Stan?” Jimbo teased him.

“I thought it was just a phase I was going through, honestly.” He answered. He felt Kyle's decade-old eyes on him. “After the divorce, I was kind of just done with women for a while. But now it’s been a few years and it’s starting to feel… permanent.”

Jimbo only blinked at him. It was just then that Stan realized his uncle didn’t know he wasn’t dating women anymore. That wasn’t exactly common knowledge. Sharon didn't even know. He just came out for the second time that day.

“Well, you’re still my favorite nephew even if you are gay.” Uncle Jimbo put a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder. “And if it is a phase, who cares? You’re still you.”

That was by far the most emotional thing his uncle had ever said. It was also the most hypocritical. Still, it was the most he could get out of his uncle. Stan would take it. “Thanks. So, umm, have you sold any AR-15’s recently? Like, within the last two days? Or to anyone who doesn’t live in town?”

“Uhh, I don’t think so.” Jimbo rubbed his chin in thought. “It’s mostly been chicks buying pistols. No out-of-towners that I can recall. Why do you ask?”

Interesting. So it was either an inside job or the shooter smuggled the gun into South Park. It wouldn’t be difficult to walk around armed in this redneck ass town. It was a point of pride for some of the men out here to open carry. It could be a disguise in of itself, but only if they knew about the gun culture the town shared. “Don’t you worry your bald little head about it. I gotta go.”

“Alright.” Uncle Jimbo said. “Give my love to Kenny and Marj.”

Stan began to leave, the strap of his gun case digging into his shoulder, when what he said sank in. He spun around quickly, prepared to question his uncle about what the fuck did he just say, but a customer had already whisked him away.

What the actual hell?

The three of them met up within a few hours. The balloon was in place where Kyle wanted it. The mannequin was in place where Kenny was standing, propped up on boxes to get it up to the height. Stan double checked his scope and red dot and climbed into the basket. He’s never ridden in a hot air balloon before, but it probably wasn’t hard to use. He put his ear and eye protection on.

Kyle came up to him with a tape measure and a walkie talkie. Stan tried to ignore how he was going weak in the knees again. Kyle put the metal tab end of the tape measure in Stan’s hand. He blamed the shock he felt on static.

“Hold onto that.” He told him. “I’ll signal you when you reach the right altitude. We don’t need to be super exact, but we need to be exact enough to avoid breaking the window again.”

“I can thread that needle.” Stan was more than confident in his abilities as a marksman. 

“I know you can.” Kyle handed him the walkie talkie. 

Stan accepted it. When their fingers brushed together, his heart slammed to a stop. God, he was far too gone and it’s only been twenty four hours. He had to stop this. There was no need to twist himself into a knot over someone who would be gone by the end of the week- especially someone who was actively hiding his intentions from him. Still, he couldn’t deny the magnetic pull between them. Kyle came back with a full beard and sharply dressed. His hair was perpetually pulled back into a man bun that should not have been as sexy as it was. And Christ, those fucking eyes. They were as green as grass on a spring morning, impossibly vivid and bright.

Stan was becoming desperate to see if those eyes could glow in the dark.

Kyle turned to leave, but he caught his arm. Those god damned eyes looked at him with surprise. Neither pulled away. Stan swallowed. “I… uh… I wanted to thank you for standing up for Kenny this morning.”

It took a moment for understanding to dawn on him. “Oh yeah. Dad was being a dick, as usual. Kenny never deserved the treatment he got. I fought for him every time. I just wanted you to know that.”

Stan nodded against the tightness in his chest. “I know you did. Thank you.”

Kyle looked down at his arm, embraced by yet another Marsh. He couldn’t seem to escape them. “You should get going before you lose the light.”

The shadows were casting long over the valley. The sun was starting to set. With a shuddering breath, Stan pulled on the cord. The burners ignited with a roar and the basket began to lift off the ground. He watched as Kyle and Ike got smaller and smaller. 

“He is risen!” Ike shouted.

Stan groaned at both the terrible joke and the anxiety that was beginning to swirl in his chest. Anticipation thrummed down his nerves. The idea of recreating this crime filled him with revulsion, but he knew it had to be done. They had to prove that it wasn’t accidental. His mind wandered to what Kyle said about fighting for Kenny. In truth, they both fought for Kenny. Gerald was obviously a dick to the guy dating his only daughter. Stan didn’t agree with the way Gerald handled that situation, but as a father he understood the protectiveness. What he didn’t understand was his own father. No one was a bigger dick to Kenny than Randy fucking Marsh.

Kenny came into their home as a byproduct of a traumatic drug bust at the age of eight. He was ripped away from his parents and separated from his siblings. There was a good few weeks where he didn’t know where his siblings even were. Despite all that, Kenny was still a good kid. By all rights he should have become an addict like his father, but he refused to even touch most drugs. He was respectful, kind, and smart. As children they were all little assholes, but he stayed on his best behavior because he constantly felt like the other shoe would drop at any time. That never ended up happening. Sharon adored him, Shelley eventually came around, and Stan loved him very much. Randy, for some reason, didn’t give a single solitary shit about Kenny.

There was something wrong with Randy, something entirely broken and unfixable. Stan knew from a young age that his dad was a drinker, but it got worse once Kenny moved in. It was like a switch flipped that day. Once Randy used to be the fun, supportive dad that Stan could talk to. Then his demeanor entirely changed. Slowly, he became a sad sack who refused to leave the couch. What’s worse was that he took out whatever problems he had on Kenny. He never made Kenny feel welcome or safe. He complained about Kenny ‘eating his food’ and ‘wasting his money’. Stan and Sharon never let those comments slide, but Kenny never said a negative word back. He spent so long trying to impress Randy. He worked hard at school and at baseball. He even tried to get a job at eleven to help repay him for the money he was ‘wasting’. It was all in vain. Randy never noticed his efforts.

The worst part was the adoptions. Marjorine was adopted by the Broflovskis, Tweek was adopted by the Tuckers, and the only time Kenny ever got the courage to ask for the same, he was met with cruel laughter. That was the first time Stan and Randy physically fought. They were only thirteen then. Later that night, Kenny crawled into Stan's bed and he just cried. He cried about how unfair it was that two grown men hated his guts for no reason, how he missed and feared for his siblings, and how he would rather live with his meth making parents because at least his bio dad loved him. Stan never saw him cry before or since, but something snapped in him that night. Any love he had for his dad was wiped away with his brother’s tears. He hated Randy for never acknowledging his second son. He hated him for ensuring that Kenny never got to live in an addiction-free home. He hated that he repeatedly chose to fulfill his own selfish desires instead of making sure they were taken care of. Most of all, Stan hated how his own father disintegrated right in front of his very eyes.

Randy Marsh, through his nonstop drinking and malignant narcissism, ruined their family. It wasn’t until all three of her children begged that Sharon decided to leave him for good. Kenny and Stan got to live the last four years of their childhood in relative peace, but the damage was done. Once the divorce was finalized, Sharon did offer to adopt Kenny. To her credit, she wanted to from the moment he walked through the door. It was Randy who either outright refused or sabotaged her attempts. That time, the refusal came from Kenny himself. It was too little, too late. He intended to make something of his last name instead of bearing it like a curse.

“Alright dude, you’re at the correct altitude.” Kyle’s voice through the walkie talkie broke Stan from his reverie. 

Nausea washed over him. Stan swallowed all of it down as best he could. His window of opportunity was limited. The light was dying and the balloon would start to descend once he stopped pulling the cord. It was time. Letting go of both the cord and the tape measure, Stan pulled up his gun into position. He rested his cheek against the buttstock and peered down the scope. He could easily see the shattered pane of glass and, just beyond that, the back of the mannequin’s plastic head. His red dot was bore sighted, so he knew there would be no missing. It was an easy shot. Simple. Just like one of his paper targets. 

He took a deep breath, placed his finger on the trigger, and fired. The round left the chamber as smoothly as it always did. A second later Stan watched as a hole sliced through the mannequin’s head as easily as butter. He was overtaken by a sudden wooziness. He turned away from the building and peered into the sunset. It was heart wrenchingly beautiful. He very briefly imagined Kyle up there with him, equally transfixed by their surroundings. Stan forcefully slammed the brakes on that image. How could he think of his own desires at a time like this? Instead, he focused on safely disassembling his firearm as he descended.  

Stan met up with Kyle and Ike back inside, guilt and sorrow digesting him. They both complemented his shooting. Stan didn’t really hear anything that they were saying. A deep, aching sadness crept up on him from the shadows. That felt awful. He knew, logically, that the head he shot was filled with fiberglass. He knew that the dining room was empty and that no one could have possibly been hurt by their experiment. It was just that the act of recreating the crime felt so unabashedly evil .

Stan had heard murders be described as ‘evil’ before, but the weight of that sentiment crushed him now. Whoever did this to Kenny was an evil person. Someone looked at Kenny, decided on their own that he didn’t deserve to exist, and publicly executed him. The three of them had been talking all day about premeditation. A part of him hoped that it was a stray bullet despite the evidence, because who could cast their gaze upon Kenny McCormick and decide that his life wasn’t worth living? Who could ever feel justified in ripping him away from the people who loved him? 

“Whoa, Stan.” He heard Kyle say. “Are you alright?”

Stan made intense eye contact with the floor as tears welled up. The straps of his gun case slipped from his hand and it clattered to the floor. “It was on purpose, guys.” 

He watched as Kyle's fancy loafers- coated in melted snow and grass clippings- approached him. Suddenly Kyle was pulling him into a warm hug. Stan hated how much he liked the feeling of his strong arms cradling him. He hated how much he loved the scent of his cologne. “I know. We’ll catch the fucker who hurt Kenny.”

Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle, too, because fuck he missed having him close. He missed his best friend so goddamn badly. It just made him hurt worse to think of all the things he’d lost. The last of his self control snapped and he allowed himself to openly sob, gripping the lapels of Kyle's coat. 

“I know.” His voice was watery and quiet, like it was just the two of them. His tears wet Stan’s collar. “I miss him, too.”

“Me, too.” Ike said, voice breaking. “I saw the crime scene photos earlier. I thought I could handle it. He didn't deserve to die like this."

Stan looked up in time to see Ike’s face crumble and tears run down. Kyle and Stan held out their arms to him, and the youngest groomsman weaved himself into their embrace. The three of them stood in the middle of the crime scene, holding each other and crying, until the sun sank far below the mountains.

Chapter Text

By the time middle school rolled around, Marjorine found herself much happier in life. What was there to really be sad about? She lived with new parents who didn’t lock her in a basement over minor infractions. She had brothers who loved and protected her. She had besties, too- something she never had before. She even had a boyfriend! Kenny held her hand out in the open instead of only under tables now. It was a dream come true.

Most of her classmates were nice to her, as well, although she knew at least some of that came from her brothers constantly imposing their will on everyone else. Stan, Kyle, Kenny, and Ike most likely thought that she didn’t know what they were doing for her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to correlate being accosted in the hallways at school with the four of them coming home in bandages. She was appreciative of their efforts, even if she hated seeing them in pain.

Marjorine, Wendy, and Nichole were at home together, just like every Friday night. They had recently taken on an art project. Marjorine had been wearing the correct clothes for years at that point, but for whatever reason jeans made for girls didn’t fit her right. It honestly made her sad. She would wear nothing but dresses and skirts if she had the confidence. Unfortunately, she was lacking in the confidence department. Her mother always said it was too cold out, anyways, but she heavily suspected that the temperature wasn't what she was worried about. Nichole came up with the genius idea to decorate what she already had to make them feel like girl jeans. That got them started on a months-long embroidery mission where they stitched flowers and hearts and butterflies into all of their pants. Marjorine looked forward to it all week long- just hanging out on the couch with her best friends and chatting like girls did.

One Friday, as Nichole was gossiping about the latest drama from the glee club, Eric Cartman barged right into Marj’s living room- no knocking or anything. The three of them jumped from the sound of the front door slamming against the wall. Eric entered with his poofball hat in his hands and pouty brown eyes.

“Hi, Eric.” Marjorine greeted him. “Our doorbell works, you know.”

“Marjorine, you look lovely today.” Eric responded with an aspartame smile. 

Wendy scoffed next to her. “Ugh, what do you want, Cartman?”

“Marjorine, we’re friends, right?” Eric asked in that grating voice of his, completely ignoring Wendy. “Good friends, ever since preschool. Don’t you remember all the fun times we had?” 

Marj was embroidering some vines. She pulled up on her needle to reveal a long green thread. “I remember you calling me a ‘freak of nature’ and a ‘he-she’.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, and thanks to your brothers I paid for my hubris. I would like for us to move past that now.”

A small part of Marjorine wanted to believe him. She still believed that there could be goodness deep down inside him, but all of her attempts to reveal it left her frustrated and hurt. She tried time and time again to ‘move past it’ with him. She decided to stop trying the moment they broke his arm. A boy like Eric Cartman could never change.

Nichole eyed Eric suspiciously. “I guess it’s just a coincidence that I saw you standing nearby when we were discussing Marj’s birthday plans today.”

He feigned surprise. None of them bought it. “Wow, your birthday is coming up? I had no idea.”

“It’s on September 11th.” Marjorine said. She aimed her needle between the fibers of her previous stitch and ran her thread back through. “I know you know that because you find it hilarious that thousands of people died.”

To his credit, he only snickered a little bit. “Will you happen to be continuing the Broflovski tradition of going to Casa Bonita with three friends?”

All three of them groaned. There it was, the only reason he cared enough to say hello. His inherent selfishness -and his obsessive love for that restaurant- knew no bounds. 

“Yes we are.” She gloated just a little bit. 

“And might I ask who will be accompanying you?”

“None of your business.” Wendy told him.

“Yeah.” Nichole backed her up. “The last time someone told you who they were taking, Tweek ended up locked in Stan’s uncle’s bomb shelter for two days.”

Eric’s eyes narrowed at them. “Strange how that timing worked out. A complete coincidence, I’m sure.”

“You went to juvie for that!” Wendy was all but shouting now. “You pled guilty!”

“Either way, you’re not invited.” Marjorine told him. She again redirected her needle through the denim and pulled up on her thread. Her hands didn't even shake when he was around anymore. “We’re not friends. You are the meanest person I’ve ever met and I hate being around you. Why would I ever invite you to anything?”

The façade had fully dissipated at that point, replaced with his typical cruelty. His eyes burned them like ice. “I will find out who’s going, and I will replace them.”

The girls exchanged unimpressed looks. They also seemed to exchange thoughts as well, because it was clear that they were all thinking the same thing. With a smile, they all shouted out in unison: “KYLE!”

Eric rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, like he'll do anything.” 

The sound of a slamming door and feet stampeding down the stairs immediately proved him wrong. Kyle appeared, still wearing his ushanka and coat even though he’d been home for hours. He looked around with alarm, but then became visibly annoyed when he saw Eric in their living room. He stomped down the rest of the stairs. “You need to leave, Cartman.”

“Fine. I was just on my way out, anyway.” Eric shoved his hat back onto his head. “But know this: You will come to rue this day, Broflovskis. I swear to you, you’ll rue the day you denied me Casa Bonita!”

Kyle held the door open for him. “Okay, whatever. Goodbye.”

“Don’t let the door hit you in your bad arm!” Nichole called after him. Marj and Wendy giggled. Eric Cartman stared daggers at them as he crossed the threshold back into the snow.

Kyle closed and then promptly locked the door. “Are you girls alright?”

“We’re fine, Kyle.” Marj said. “Thanks for getting rid of him.”

He smiled at her. “Okay then. I’m going to go back upstairs.”

“Bye, Kyle.” The girls waved as they watched him leave. Marj could hear a strange cadence in Nichole’s voice. As soon as she heard his bedroom door close, she turned to her friend. “Oh my god, do you have a crush?”

Wednesday Evening

Marjorine spent the day among her best lady friends. Nichole came over shortly after her brothers and parents left, bottles of red and white under each arm. Gerald and Sheila finally left after they realized that their kids were pissed at them, but Sharon was more than welcome to stay. The five of them- Marjorine, Nichole, Wendy, Sharon, Karen, and her girlfriend Henrietta- had a liquid lunch and traded their favorite stories about Kenny. Karen and Sharon in particular were taking it very hard. They held each other tearfully for nearly the whole day. Marj, for her part, felt herself growing numb as the hours wore on. She didn’t drink much, but she encouraged her company to drink more. Once Nichole’s supply ran out, she pulled out her own stock. She needed these women as drunk as possible. It was easier to forget him under the influence.

By the time her brothers came home, her companions were thoroughly sloshed. It was past dark when they came in with stacks of pizza boxes and faces flushed from the mountain winds. Nichole immediately got up to give Kyle a hug that he most certainly didn’t want.

“Oh, the groomsmen are back!” Nichole’s words were slurring a bit as she threw her arms around him. “Isn’t that awesome?”

“Oh, hi Stan.” Sharon weakly waved from where she was draped over the arm of the couch.

“Holy shit, is she drunk?” Stan asked as he put the pizzas on the table.

Marjorine came over to them, leaving the other women on the couch. “They’re all drunk.”

Ike rushed forward, reaching for her arm. He dipped low to whisper in her ear. “We found out what happened to Kenny. We need to talk in private.”

Her stomach dropped. Son of a fucking bitch.  

“Why has my mom been drinking?” Stan asked with an edge of anger to his voice.

“Nichole, please let me go.” Kyle sounded very uncomfortable. She only squeezed him tighter.

“Ladies, there’s pizza here.” Marj called out. “Come eat something that isn’t wine, please.”

She managed to successfully pull her maid of honor off her brother and got her in a chair. The other women slowly shuffled into the kitchen and began eating. She whispered for her brothers to follow her upstairs. They began to leave when Wendy stopped them.

“What are you guys off to do?” She questioned from the table.

“Broflovski shit.” Marj answered. “Don’t worry about it.”

Wendy snorted. “Then why is Stan going with you?”

“Mind your business.” He answered her.

Wendy flipped him off, he flipped her off in kind, and the four of them continued up the stairs into the master bedroom. Marj flipped one of the switches next to the door, which turned on their bedside lamps. The room filled with a low amber glow. The sound of people entering disrupted Sir Pounce’s sleep. As usual, he was curled up on Kenny’s side. She ran her eyes over the layout of the room. Now where did she put that binder? Stan shut the door behind him as Kyle and Ike kicked off their shoes and made themselves comfortable on her king sized bed.

“Marjorine, you need to tell me right now why my mom- who swore on her own mother’s grave that she would never drink again- is fucking trashed like a college kid?” Stan spoke in measures like he was trying to keep calm. He gripped the door knob like it anchored him to reality.

All three Broflovskis stared at him. It occurred to her that seeing his mother in such a state was probably extremely upsetting, knowing their family history with alcohol. She swallowed down a sudden guilt she wasn't expecting to feel. “Stan, she’s a grown woman who can make her own decisions."

"Don't start with that shit." He snapped at her. "Randy made his own decisions, too."

Marj answered calmly. "We weren’t going to stop her from drinking since she isn’t the one with the problem. In fact, she wanted to. We all needed to numb the pain for a little while.”

Stan deflated at that, the anger replaced with a weariness beyond his years. Dear God, he somehow looked worse than he had that morning. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and his five o’ clock shadow was approaching beard territory. He's been crying. Marj laid a hand on his arm. “Tell me what happened.”

“It was premeditated.” Stan’s bottom lip quivered. “Someone murdered him.”

“Are you sure?” Her breath caught in her throat. She looked over to her other two brothers, but their faces were just as grim.

“Beyond a shadow of a doubt.” Ike told her. 

“I’m so sorry, Marj.” Stan said with tears in his eyes.

Marjorine wiped them away, her palm softly scratched by his facial hair. She pulled him into a hug. He didn't resist.

Despite the fact that Marjorine expected to have her husband back by the end of the week, her heart still broke. Not for Kenny, but for her brothers. They’ve been through this tango together hundreds of times. She knew all the steps by heart, but they always forgot their lessons. It was always a fresh hell for them. It never got to reach the level of dull ache that she maintained. She needed to tell them the truth. Where the fuck was that binder?

Kyle sniffed. He was clearly cut up by Kenny's death as well. “We should probably talk suspects.”

Marjorine pulled away from Stan and began searching while her brothers debated.

“That cop was wrong when he said Kenny didn’t have any enemies.” Ike pondered as she entered her closet. “He has two.”

“Your dad.” Kyle said. Marj began sorting through the things on the top rack. No binder.

“That’s funny, because I was gonna say your dad.” Stan's voice was thick with tears, but he seemed a bit lighter than a few minutes ago.

She exited the closet and began sifting through their dresser. Kenny sometimes liked to shove random shit in his drawers instead of putting them where they belong. It was probably his worst trait. Still no binder.

“Marj, do you wanna sit?” Kyle asked. 

“No, I have to find something.” She told him. “It’s really important. Don’t worry about me right now.”

“It’s more important than figuring out who murdered Kenny?” Stan asked.

She wasn't touching that with a ten foot pole. She just ignored them and climbed under the bed. Finally, there it was, wedged between the bedframe and her night stand. She pulled it free. The front read ‘Kenny Deaths’ in his blocky writing. They’ve been moderating this binder for so long that it was beginning to fall apart. “I found it.” 

She climbed onto the bed with them, cradling her binder to her chest. Her brothers looked at her with curiosity. A sudden nervousness overwhelmed her. This wasn’t the first time she would tell them about the curse, but this was the first time Kenny was murdered. It would be a tall order to ask them to forget.

“I have to tell you something.” Marjorine said. “I just- I need you to not freak out. It’s a good thing you’re sitting already.”

The three of them shared wary glances. Then Ike said, “Can it wait until we get this figured out?”

“No, it can’t.” She let out a shaky exhale. “Because it doesn’t matter who or what killed him. Kenny is deathless. He’s cursed to never die- or at least, to never stay dead.”

Wariness turned to straight up disbelief within seconds. Stan particularly looked pissed. “Marj, what the fuck are you on about? Kenny died right in front of us. He’s not coming back.”

“He is dead, but it’s not permanent.” Marjorine tried to explain. “I know I sound absolutely batshit, but I’m telling you the truth. All of the proof is in this binder. I’ve been collecting his obits and death records since the fifth grade.”

She slid it over to them. No one moved. Stan got even angrier. “Is this some kind of joke?”

She shook her head, sadness filling her heart. She was afraid this would happen. “Stan, you know me better than that.”

“You shouldn’t give us false hope, Marj.” Kyle’s voice was dangerously upset. His eyes were watery.

“There’s nothing ‘false’ about it.” She was growing exasperated. “Listen, I’ve been dealing with this since I was eleven. I’m the only person on the planet who knows what’s really going on with Kenny. I’m the only person who sees what he goes through. I wouldn't deceive you about this. Please just trust me.”

Kyle was the first to pick up the binder. It contained original prints only, published in the newspaper that she clipped out for posterity. There was no faking the age of some of the earliest entries. Marjorine watched as he flipped through the pages, his skepticism slowly giving way to horror. She knew exactly the causes of death inside: accidental shootings were by far the most common, but car accidents, electrocutions, and crushings were pretty high up there, too.

“Holy shit.” Kyle all but shouted. “Leukemia? Kenny never had that!”

“He did, you just don’t remember.” Marjorine informed him. “That was seventh grade. He was gone for a long time after that.”

Stan leaned in to read off his shoulder, their faces just inches apart. When was the last time they were that physically close? Then Ike crowded in and all three of them tore through it with a morbid curiosity.

“Just a warning, Stan.” She interrupted. “Some of those deaths are… Randy-induced.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” He distanced himself from the evidence, appearing vaguely nauseated. Sir Pounce climbed into his lap as if sensing his distress. Stan petted him absentmindedly. After a moment, he spoke again. "Marj, you know I love you and I don't want to doubt your character. Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I wish I were lying." She responded. "I promise you this is real. Kenny dies and then he returns. It's been this way for as long as he can remember."

"Do you swear on your mom?" Stan asked like they were eight again.

Her eyebrow rose. "I swear on both of our moms."

His mouth popped open, clearly not expecting that response. "Shit."

Marjorine gave him a tight smile. "Yeah."

"Why don't we remember any of this?" He asked.

“I don’t know.” Came her honest answer. “I’m the only person who remembers. Everyone else forgets. Honestly, that’s the worst part, the forgetting.”

"Oh!" Stan shot up, startling Sir Pounce. "That explains why Uncle Jimbo was being so weird earlier. He was in such a good mood, and then when I was leaving he said to pass his love onto you and Kenny.”

Ike and Kyle suddenly made distressed sounds. Their faces were scrunched up in horror and disgust, their eyes fixated on whichever article they found. Marj could only guess which occurrence they were reacting to.  

"Jesus Christ." Ike muttered.

"Poor Kenny." Kyle agreed. "Fuck, remind me to punch Randy the next time I see him."

No one responded to that statement. It heavily implied that he would be seeing Randy Marsh again. The problem was that he wasn't invited to the wedding, and Kyle was leaving on Sunday. They'll never run into each other again. It was clear to the rest of the group that they were also never going to see Kyle again once he gets on his flight back. That sadness weighed heavily on his siblings -Stan, too, judging by his frown- and he didn't seem to know or care.

Stan cleared his throat. "What do we do now?"

“Kenny will come back. It’s guaranteed." Marjorine was more certain of that than anything else. "Here’s the problem: in order for that to happen, everyone involved needs to forget. That means your investigation needs to come to an end.”

“Nearly the whole town saw it!” Ike cried. 

“I know, and by now I’m sure the majority of them have forgotten.” She replied. “It really just takes a moment of distraction. That’s why I had everyone downstairs drink. I put on HGTV and they all watched for hours with empty brains.”

“I can’t look at this anymore.” Kyle said, passing the binder back to her. 

Stan looked at her incredulously. “We can’t give up now. There’s a murderer out there!”

“The murderer will forget what they’ve done, just like everyone else.” Marj informed him, placing the binder against her chest. “The circumstances around every death disappear once he returns. Tombstones, caskets, medical bills, even articles like these will disappear if I don’t save them. People will forget about that whole dinner.”

Kyle let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, so the cops won’t remember that we impersonated the FBI this morning?”

She blinked at him in disbelief. “You did what?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Ike said quickly, nudging his brother into silence.

“I don’t think I can let this go.” Stan told her. He seemed so conflicted. “You’re asking me to let my brother’s murderer slip away.”

“I know that, but it needs to be done.” She held the hand that wasn't petting the cat. “Trust me when I say that this is the only way for Kenny to return. I need him back before Saturday. The wedding is still on no matter what Dad says. Just try to distract yourself in the meantime.”

Kyle peered at her. “How many times have you told us about this?”

“Dozens.” She answered. “And you forget every time.”

That hurt Marjorine deeply. The fact that the most important people in Kenny’s life couldn’t retain this information cut them both. Kenny deserved to be remembered. He deserved to have his suffering acknowledged by his brothers. Marjorine didn’t want to keep going through this by herself. She selfishly wished that they would remember like she did, just so she didn’t have to carry the burden alone.

“Okay, what can we do in the meantime?” Ike asked. “Aside from the forgetting, which I assume will be harder than we think it will be.”

“I don’t want to be alone.” She requested. “The girls are great, but they’re tiring. I just need a chill time.”

“We can work in shifts.” It was so like Kyle to brainstorm solutions. “We can each stay a day with her until Kenny returns.”

“Ike’s up first.” Stan volunteered him.

“Uhh, why?” Ike asked. When he was only answered with angry glares from the other two men, he answered his own question. “No, that’s fair.”

“Plus,” Stan redirected his angry glare to the other Broflovski brother. “It gives us an opportunity to finally talk.”

Holy shit, the blush that erupted across Kyle’s face. They definitely did more than just investigate while they were out. Ike did something to piss both of them off, but also put them on the path of recovery. They were looking each other in the eye again. That was honestly a great sign.

“Can you guys stay here tonight?” Marjorine asked. “The nights are the worst.”

“I have to check on Lucy.” Stan said remorsefully. “I also need to take Mom and Wendy home.”

“We’ll stay with you.” Ike said. “It’ll be like old times.”

“I’m fine with that as long as Nichole keeps her hands to herself.” Kyle grimaced. He was the worst bisexual on the fucking planet. Nichole’s an absolute babe.

“We’ll send the girls home.” Majorine agreed, feeling a little excited at the prospect of a Broflovski slumber party after so long.

“Cool. Can we have pizza now?” Ike asked.

Stan and Kyle looked at each other and clearly decided to mock him. “I put the ‘starving’ in starving artist”, they whined.

“I really regret helping you guys out.” He sneered at them. “I forgot what assholes you two are together.”

“You shouldn’t have opened your fucking mouth, then.” Kyle teased him.

“You did it to yourself.” Stan backed him up.

Marjorine had no idea what they were bickering about. She would find out soon, but she smiled in the meantime. Kenny’s coming back to a healing family.

Chapter Text

On the day of Kyle’s seventeenth birthday, a wager was chiseled into stone. 

Gerald and Sheila threw him a little party at home for family and close friends- nothing like the parent-free rager Stan organized for later that night. Ike wasn’t invited because he was only twelve, but he was planning on sneaking in anyways. Family parties were always extremely lame. All of the Broflovski kids were really too old for their parents to be handling them, but any refusal left Sheila in tears about how they were growing up too quickly. They stopped doing Casa Bonita trips years ago (thanks to a certain someone attempting to weasel his way in every time), so this was all that was left for her to cherish.

Kyle and Stan were across the room, whispering to each other like school girls. They were obviously high. Ike would have known that even if he hadn’t seen them lighting up through his bedroom window earlier. They had bloodshot eyes and lackadaisical smiles. They seemed to burst out laughing at every other sentence. It was honestly obnoxious how they were the only people having fun.

Kenny and Marjorine sat on the couch, watching the birthday boy from afar. Marj sat very close to her boyfriend, resting her head on his shoulder. She wore a long, floral skirt that draped over her knees and a yellow cable knit sweater. Kenny wore a button up flannel and a pair of jeans. There was barely a sliver of daylight between them. That would absolutely piss Gerald off if he were to see it, but neither cared. They were far beyond the point of caring. Ike was standing nearby, bored out of his mind and unable to leave lest he be accosted by his mother later on. He had homework to do and lines to run. Out of the corner of his eye, Kenny waved him over. He patted the couch cushion next to him. Ike came over and took a seat.

“Hey, little brother.” Kenny greeted him.

“I keep telling you we’re not related.” Came Ike’s immediate reply.

“We’ll be related by marriage eventually.” He responded easily, placing his hand on Marjorine’s knee.

Her face grew as red as a tomato. She swatted him away playfully. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Ken.” 

“Ugh.” Ike gagged. “Did you have me come over just to watch you flirt with my sister? Sick.”

Kenny chuckled. “Nah. Look at those two.” He gestured with his cup over to Stan and Kyle, who were now very, very close together. “We were just talking about them.”

“What about them?” 

“Well, don’t you think that it’s a little weird how close they are?” Kenny asked him. “I mean, they’re constantly only inches away from each other. They always skip out on hanging out with their girlfriends to hang out with each other. When they sleep over, it's in each other’s beds. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

Ike contemplated his question. Stan and Kyle were undeniably tight-knit. Ike thought about his relationship with his own best friend. When he slept over, he slept on the floor. It felt awkward to share a bed with another boy. It was odd that they didn’t have that separation. Even now, they were invading each other’s personal space. If Ike didn’t know any better, they looked like they were about to- .

“Are they gay for each other?” His voice dropped to a whisper. For once, he’d like to spare his brother the embarrassment. 

“We think so.” Kenny confirmed with a sly grin. “Now the real question is, when are they gonna figure it out?”

Ike blinked in confusion for a moment. “You don’t think they know?”

“Would they be dating other people if they did?” Marjorine asked. 

He considered her point carefully. They could be hiding a relationship, but it was very doubtful. They wouldn’t be able to hide it from their siblings. Marj and Kenny were nosey. Hell, Stan and Kenny shared a room up until Shelley moved out last year. There was no way they could have hidden that long term, although he understood the desire. Gerald would not be happy to know that Kyle liked other men. He never verbalized any homophobic ideas, but he made it clear that Marjorine’s transition was his limit on LBGTQ stuff. He didn’t have the patience for much else. To be fair, having a transgender family member was difficult- not because she was difficult, but because people were dicks about it. Every year there was at least one teacher that refused to respect Marj’s identity. Medical professionals have dismissed her as a patient based on her gender. Not to mention the never-ending barrage of transphobia from other kids. It was a constant fight the whole family participated in. Gerald was exhausted just like the rest of them.

Still, they were both dating girls. They might be assholes, but he really couldn’t see Stan or Kyle hiding behind a couple of women like that. That would be extremely cowardly of them. Extremely shitty, too. They were the kind of men who said things with their whole chest and rarely backed down. They had that teenage boy bravado that Ike had yet to develop. If they were dating, neither of them would ever let it be a secret. They would flaunt it.

“Okay, I see your point.” Ike said. “Should we do something about it?”

“No.” Kenny’s response was immediate. “Stan is crazy in love with Wendy. I really don’t think he’s even thought about other women, let alone men. I don’t want to ruin his happiness.”

“We shouldn’t push them into something neither of them want.” Marjorine agreed. She sounded kind of sad. “They have to figure it out on their own.”

“Exactly. So I ask both of you: when do you think that will be?” Kenny had that characteristic gleam in his eye that only meant one thing: a bet.

“Well, they want to go away to college together.” She replied. “I think if there ever was a time, it would be then.”

“Are you confident in that, sweetie?” Kenny asked. “Twenty bucks kind of confident?”

Marjorine giggled. “Sure, babe. I’ll put money on it.”

“Okay, well I’ll bet that they’ll figure it out… before our high school reunion.” Kenny said. “I’ll put twenty on it, too. Ike?”

Ike smirked. “I’ll bet that they never figure it out.”

Kenny and Marjorine exchanged a skeptical look that Ike didn’t like. 

“Are you sure about that, little brother?” Kenny asked.

“You really shouldn’t bet against family.” She frowned at him.

“If Stan is as happy as you say, then he’ll end up marrying Wendy.” He reasoned. 

“That’s not what their plan is.” Marjorine argued with him. “After high school, Stan and Wendy are going to different colleges. They both know their relationship has an expiration date.”

Ike shrugged. “Plans change and twenty bucks is twenty bucks.”

She turned to Kenny. “I don’t think he knows how bets work.”

Kenny grinned, revealing a mouth full of dental work. “He’s got the spirit- twenty bucks is twenty bucks.”

Thursday Afternoon

There had to be a bitter irony in buying weed from your ex-best friend. Ike found it infinitely funny that he left the country and found moderate success as an actor whereas Filmore fucking Anderson, valedictorian of their graduating class, stayed in South Park and started slinging dope. He was at least gracious when Filmore came over to sell. There was no need to gloat. He appreciated his low weed prices- Toronto was expensive and the Canadian dollar was weak- and even thanked him when he apologized for his transphobia. He tried to hand over Kyle’s twenty, but Filmore told him it was on the house as a gesture of goodwill. That was baffling. The Filmore he knew would never give anything for free. He has changed a lot since high school. He was no longer the know-it-all little shit who always had to have the last word. A weird ache filled Ike’s chest as Filmore drove away, something like nostalgia and longing.

Oh well. Nothing that a bowl couldn’t fix.

The weed was much needed. Ike loved spending time with Marjorine. She was sweet, smart and encouraging. She beat insecurity and self-doubt out of him, but, like, in a soft way. She was the pick-me-up he always needed. For his part, he suspects he’s her favorite brother. Ike really began to rely on Marj and Kenny once Kyle bailed on South Park. The summer he left was the summer before Ike began high school. He really needed guidance from people who had been there before him. When Marj and Kenny got their own apartment, Ike was over there all the time. It was unbearable being at home then. Gerald and Sheila were up his ass constantly due to his grades and his aspirations. His sister and her boyfriend provided much needed respite from the nagging. In doing so, the three of them became extremely close. It was not a bond that distance could diminish.

So no, the weed wasn’t needed to help him deal with his sister- that was the easy part. The issue was that he had been up for hours and he couldn't stop thinking about Kenny or the two people that could have killed him. Sleep did him no good. He dreamed vividly of Kenny’s death (the most recent of hundreds, what a horrifying thought) and the nebulous dark that cloaked the perpetrator.  Ike felt terrible about extending his sister’s suffering. His mind just wouldn’t stop whirling about the crime.

“Did you get the goods?” Marjorine asked from the living room. She was lying down on the couch, wrapped up in a million throw blankets.

There was a movie paused on screen. They were doing a great job of distracting themselves with it until a shooting took place. After that, they decided that sobriety wasn’t working out. Weed was the only drug that Kenny and Marj ever tried- ‘tried’ because Ike could count the number of times they smoked together on one hand. Kenny was terrified of developing an addiction, so he really limited himself. He never drank, either. Marjorine supported him by following suit and declining on his behalf when necessary. Ike was pretty well versed in drug usage- college has been very broadening for him- but now wasn’t the time to have his sister try something new. She needed something familiar and comforting, and she was all out of wine.

“Yup.” Ike plopped down and started work on grinding the bud up. He kept a kit in his car. It would be incriminating if the cops could ever find it buried under all his props. “How long has it been since you’ve smoked?”

She sat up as he ground, watching his work. Her long, golden hair was a little knotted. She was still in her jammies, but he wouldn't judge her for that. There was no dress code for grieving. She shrugged. “Umm, a year and a half, I think?”

“You’re gonna need some water and cough drops.” Ike told her as he untwisted his grinder to check the fineness. “Do you want me to get them for you?”

Marj shook her head and kicked off the blankets. “No, I got it. You do… that.”

She left the room as Ike inspected his bowl. Luckily, he recently cleaned it out. His sister didn’t deserve a mouthful of ash. As he packed, his mind wandered right back to the puzzle that was his brother-in-law’s demise. Two shots, two suspects, two motives. Gerald Broflovski, his own father, was at the top of the list. The very idea made him sick to his stomach. The whole family knew that he hated Kenny (and if they didn’t, they certainly did after Kyle’s little speech at breakfast yesterday). Did he hate him enough to commit murder?

He had a solid alibi. He was at the rehearsal dinner. Ike believed in his heart that his father could not kill someone. That didn’t mean he couldn’t pay someone to do it for him. No, it wouldn’t be something that he would dirty his own hands with. Gerald had both the means and the motive. The Broflovskis have always been pretty well off thanks to his law practice. They were actually the second wealthiest family in South Park after the Blacks- not that anyone was really counting. He easily has the capital to order a hit. He had knowledge of the wedding plans, too. He could have orchestrated the murder to guarantee maximum traumatization, but for why? To send a message? To make his daughter sad?

It was the best fit, but Ike had to admit his logic was a little shaky. Gerald loves Marjorine so much. She's clearly his favorite- a fact that Ike perpetually tries to ignore. Their father may be a dick about Kenny, but he never tried to force them apart or make them break up. He just made his displeasure known- loudly, rudely, and frequently. He also gets a point for never hurting Kenny. Ike didn’t see Gerald’s name in the binder at all. He was certain that if their father ever did try to hurt him, Marjorine would no longer be in South Park. She would have taken the Shelley Marsh (and possibly Kevin McCormick if the rumors were to be believed) route of slipping away in the middle of the night, never to be seen again. She would go completely silent. Even if everyone forgot, she wouldn’t. It was very possible Gerald knew this would be the consequences of any actions he may have considered and decided against them. 

That brought him to the second and last suspect: Randy Marsh. Randy doesn’t have the means and he doesn’t really have a motive. What he did have was a hatred for Kenny McCormick, alcoholism, and apparently a pattern of behavior. Ike could not believe some of the things he did to Kenny in the past. He didn’t read the obituaries in detail, but he definitely read that Randy drunkenly ran his foster son over on one occasion. What an absolute unforgivable piece of shit Randy Marsh is. Ike hated him before, but never on this level- he always took solace in the fact that the abuse was never physical. Clearly that wasn’t the case. Perhaps Randy in a drunken stupor felt disrespected for not being invited and decided to kill Kenny? It would explain why there were two shots if he had alcohol in his system. It wouldn’t explain the premeditation part. In fact, if Randy wanted to make his disrespect known, he could have just barged in and made a scene. That was kind of his M.O. anyways. Ike would have delighted in kicking his ass out. It was one of his groomsmen duties.

Marjorine came back into the room with freshly brushed hair, a handful of cough drops, and a tall glass of water. “Are you ready?” 

Ike nodded, holding his freshly packed bowl. “I hope this is good weed.”

He lit up and inhaled. It was okay. He appreciated how smooth it went down. Filmore wasn’t doing too bad a job out here. Holding his breath, he passed the bowl and a lighter to his sister. She took them delicately. 

Ike exhaled. “Do you remember how to smoke?”

“Not really.” She looked mildly nervous.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He immediately told her.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Marj reassured him. “It’s just that I’ve never smoked without Kenny before. Feels a little strange. It was always something we did together. You remember.”

He smiled at the memory of barely being a legal adult, getting high with his two favorite people. “I know. We both need a distraction, though. Put it up to your mouth and burn up with the lighter. Inhale as much as you can, then hold it for five seconds. Then you exhale. It’s been a while, so you’ll probably start coughing up a lung.”

She followed his instructions and did indeed start coughing up a lung. She passed the bowl back to him. “Holy shit, it’s like when I got bronchitis that one time.” She managed to get out.

Ike took a second hit with ease as Marjorine attempted to get over her first one. He passed it back once she was over the worst of it. Then the cycle restarted until it was all gone. She drank her water and popped a cough drop in her mouth. She only bought the lemon honey kind. He doubted it would be strong enough to really help. Once their grass was only ash, they both laid back down on the couch. Marj reinstituted herself as a human burrito, still occasionally coughing. Ike changed the channel back to HGTV and they watched one of those house renovation shows. He felt it a little bit, but he didn’t expect to get too high due to the tolerance he developed. Time passed with the two of them cuddled together. Marj began to giggle as it started to kick in. “There’s no way they came in three grand under budget. Those counters are real marble.” 

“You feeling toasty?” Ike asked her.

“Yeah.” Her voice was relaxed and sleepy. “I still miss Kenny, though.”

“We’re not supposed to be thinking about him.” He said. 

“I know, but I’m running low on my kissy reserves.” Marj whined. “I need smooches to feel better.” 

Ike leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. It was brief and chaste. “There, something to tide you over.”

She laughed again. “Thanks, little brother.”

“What’s the longest he’s been gone?” He asked. He shouldn’t have, but his curiosity got the better of him. It wasn’t helpful towards their goal.

Marjorine’s smile died. “Five and a half months. After he got leukemia. It was a really rough time. Stan and Kyle took it particularly hard.”

“Wait a minute.” Ike said. “So he was gone for nearly half a year, and you knew that he wouldn’t come back until everyone forgot. So what, you just had to sit there and wait? ”

She didn’t respond.

“That’s really awful, Marj. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t.” She suddenly said. “The more we talk about it, the longer he stays gone.”

“Okay, then let’s talk about Stan and Kyle.”  

She looked over at him. Her eyes were hooded and bloodshot. “Yeah. Wanna tell me what you did to them yesterday?”

“Not much.” He said smugly. “I just reminded them of what they had in common.”

She raised an eyebrow on him. “I told you already, we can’t force them into anything.”

“Marj, you don’t understand.” He tried to explain. “Those two were eye fucking all day long yesterday. It was honestly kinda gross. They’re alone now and I hope to God that means they’re working their shit out.”

“It’s not your place to meddle, Ike.”

“You know as well as I that if they don’t work it out, Kyle will leave and we will never see him again.” He argued. “He’ll fuck back off to Jersey and just… diminish.”

Marjorine nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know. And Stan will stay the course and keep denying himself things that bring him joy.”

“They both have a real shot at happiness here. They just have to take it.” Ike said. “They’ll thank me later.”

“I’ve always thought they’d make a cute couple.” She said with a yawn. “Kenny’s gonna be so excited when he gets back.”

“Yeah.” A sudden rush of sadness and guilt engulfed him. This wasn’t working. Kenny’s existence could never slip his mind. How did he do it every other time this happened? How could he bring himself to willingly forget him after everything they’ve been through together? How could he drop a murder investigation like a sack of potatoes?

His phone dinged on the coffee table. Ike looked over at his sister. She was falling asleep, the marijuana doing its job at relaxing her. HGTV was on a commercial break. He unlocked his phone to see snapchat messages from Flora, one of the girls he went to school with out here. They were both theater kids. She had a classiness beyond her years that made her significantly more pleasant to be around than the rest of the group. He crushed on her at one point, but she never seemed interested.

Flora: Hey Ike

Flora: Just heard that you were back in town

Flora: You should come by and we can run some lines together if you catch my drift

She sent a photo. Oh yeah, this could work.

Ike: Address?

Details ironed out, Ike slipped on his coat and his shoes. He leaned over Marjorine again just to check how conked she really was. She was out like a light. She likely wouldn’t wake for hours. Her sleep would be sweet and dreamless. 

“I’m gonna run out.” He told her and planted another kiss on her forehead. “I love you.”

She muttered something that kind of sounded like an ‘I love you, too’, but English was beyond her purview at that point. He refilled her water cup before he left.

It was around four when he left Marj’s place to drive back into town. He let his GPS guide him to Flora’s apartment, because he wasn’t that certain of where it was. It was a new construction. He tried not to get nostalgic for a time when South Park didn’t have apartments. Ike popped a piece of gum into his mouth and was grateful for the shower he took that morning. He chewed thoughtfully, trying to get himself psyched up. He caught a red light at the first intersection coming in. He rolled down his window and immediately heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years. Next to him, on the other side of the street, stood a cute little coffee shop with outdoor seating. His eyes roamed over the scene. It took him less than a second to pinpoint where that familiar voice was coming from.

Heidi Turner, bundled up in a gray jacket and scarf, sat at one of the tables. She looked distraught , a far cry from the well put together appearance she had in the past. He couldn’t make out what she was saying. She was whispering like she was afraid of someone overhearing. Across the table, the recipient of the whispers, sat Eric Cartman. In hindsight, Ike wasn’t sure why he didn’t see him first. Not only was he large, he was also bright. He wore a red jacket similar to the one he wore when they were kids. He regarded Heidi and her apparent concerns with a look of boredom. His coffee steamed up on the table, completely untouched.

What the fuck were they doing here? Last anybody knew they were in Jersey. Ike felt discomfort swell in his chest. How fucking dare they come back to town after all the damage they caused? His rationality quickly overtook his emotional reaction. They were both from South Park. Their parents still lived here. Maybe it was a coincidence that they were visiting at the same time Kyle was.

A car honked behind Ike. The light had turned green when he hadn’t been looking. He kept his foot firmly on the break. The fucker could go around him. Ike couldn’t move because Eric Cartman was staring him straight in the eye. Eric didn’t recognize him at first. He was visibly confused as to why someone was watching them. Once recognition hit, confusion was instantly replaced with hatred. They stared each other down for far too long. Nausea roiled in Ike’s stomach like a tide. Cartman’s eyes bore into him as if they could cause physical damage. Ike could tell that he wanted to cause damage. His expression belied an unquenchable thirst for revenge.

Weird. He already got his revenge.

Heidi tugged on Eric’s arm. Ike heard her say ‘let’s go’ over the idle of his engine and the roaring in his own ears. Eventually they both got up and walked away. He continued to sit there, taking deep breaths. The light was red again. He didn’t know why they were back in town, or what they wanted. All he knew was that Kyle needed to be warned.

With trembling fingers, he managed to handle his phone firmly enough to give his brother a call.

“Hello?” Kyle’s voice was lighter. Weightless, even.

Ike hated to ruin it.

“Don’t panic.” He began.

Chapter Text

Kyle never experienced a real party until his college days. His freshman year was mostly quiet. His on campus roommates that year were also quiet- the studious types who kept their lamps on until three in the morning. His sophomore year was shaping up to be the opposite. His new roommates were chaotic and messy. They were extraverted as all hell. They were the perfect triad. They quickly became best friends due to their shared interest of being absolutely unhinged. They turned their gaze onto Kyle after a few weeks of living together. They were nice guys, hardworking, and legitimately interested in his wellbeing. It was as if they mutually decided that they were going to make him their project. Despite his protests - and dear God did he protest - they made it their mission to pull him into the fold.

That’s how he ended up at a bonfire three weeks prior to winter break instead of studying for finals. He was in someone’s parents' backyard or something. Ryan explained it to him, but Kyle filed that information away as ‘Unimportant Bullshit’; a folder dedicated entirely to his roommates. There were a lot of people out there dancing and drinking despite the cold. Music he barely recognized blasted from a speaker nearby. He sat in a plastic lawn chair, five feet from the fire. He held onto a beer that his other roommate, Alex, basically slapped into his hand with a demand for him to drink it. Kyle highly suspected that they were worried about him, he just couldn’t figure out why. It has been a year and a half since his entire life imploded. Frankly, he was doing much better now. He made the Dean’s List the past two semesters and he was certain he’d make it again if he could get any fucking studying done. So what if he was quiet? So what if he still cried in the shower sometimes? That was his business and they couldn’t hear him anyways. He was fine.

Someone moved in his periphery. A young woman moved to sit in the vacant chair next to him. That was fine with him as long as she didn’t try to start a conversation.

“Beautiful night, huh?” The mystery woman said.

Damn it.

Kyle turned his head to look at her. She looked vaguely familiar. He tried to place her in his mind.  Did they have a class together last year? Her neck was craned upward. She stared at the sky in a quiet awe, her breath misting in the cold. He did the same and frowned. Light pollution crowded out the stars even this far away from the city. Back home on clear nights, he and Stan would camp out at Stark’s Pond and stare up at them until they passed out. He used to hope against all reason that their lips would meet in the dark. He mentally kicked himself for sliding back. Days Since Last Thought About Stan: Zero.

“I guess.” He finally responded. Conversation would make for a good distraction. “It’s nothing like the sky where I come from.”

She peered at him curiously. “Let me guess. Small town, an hour from the nearest Wal-Mart, probably somewhere in the Colorado Rockies?”

Kyle’s eyes blew wide. “How’d you guess that from one sentence?”

“I was going to guess Appalachia, but you don’t have the accent.”

He shook his head. “No, how did you guess Colorado specifically?”

She shrugged at him. The fire suddenly crackled and burned brighter. Kyle noticed her then, her deep brown eyes wide with curiosity. Her light hair was braided in two, draped down her shoulders and partially obscured by a green hat. His eyes traced over the curve of her cupid’s bow, the slight ridge of her nose, the shape of her eyebrows. She was really cute.

“Oh, I was just joking.” She smiled at him. “I’m from a small town in the Colorado Rockies where the nearest Wal-Mart is an hour away.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But I’m from a small town in the Colorado Rockies, too.”

She scoffed lightheartedly, clearly not believing him. “You’re a good actor.”

“What county are you from?” He couldn’t help the suspicion cresting in his chest.

Her smile faltered. “Park County.”

It all came rushing back. Of course he recognized her. They went to elementary school together. A group that small and tight knit doesn’t forget one of their own. “Jesus Christ, you’re Heidi Turner.”

Heidi’s discomfort turned to fear. Her big doe eyes raced back and forth, as if searching for an escape route. She went from friendly to skittish in an instant. “How the hell do you know my name?”

“Because I’m from South Park like you.” Kyle suddenly felt insane with the need to convince her he wasn’t a stalker. “We went to school together, don’t you remember? Before you moved. You were friends with… um-”

“Bebe.” She answered him quietly, as if she hadn’t recalled until just that moment.

“Yes, Bebe! Annie, too. You dated Eric Cartman and you-” Kyle paused as he remembered more details. Anger began to simmer. “You called my sister ‘flat’.”

Fear became confusion again. “Your sister?”

“Marjorine.” Protectiveness for her flared up even as she was hundreds of miles away.

Heidi’s jaw dropped as recognition finally hit her. “Oh my God. Kyle.”

He nodded rapidly, suddenly unsure of what to do. No words would come to him. He left South Park with the sole intention to only come back for his family- and only as rarely as he could possibly get away with it. What the fuck was he supposed to do with Heidi?

“I totally forgot about all of that once I moved away.” She told him. “Everything with Eric was so traumatic and - I’m so sorry about what I said about Marjorine. I might have said that because he told me to, but I also could have said that because I wanted to lash out. Either way, it wasn’t right.”

“I appreciate that.” Kyle felt the last dredges of his anger slip away. “Man, this is… so weird.”

Heidi laughed. “I know, right! What were the chances of us ever meeting again?”

“Very small.” He told her, shaking his head in disbelief. “Molecular.”

She smiled at him. It pierced right through him like an arrow. He wasn’t a man who put much stock in fate, but this was an astronomical coincidence. Maybe it was the single sip of beer that he had to appease Alex, but in that moment it felt like the stars they couldn’t see were aligning for them. Suddenly he could think of a million things he could do with Heidi. It all unfolded for him like a beautiful piece of origami.

“I’m glad that we met again, Kyle.” The sincerity rang bright in her voice. She placed her hand on his. He didn’t move away. “Despite all the bad things that happened, I really loved South Park. Maybe the two of us could be each other’s little piece of home.”

Kyle liked the sound of that.

Thursday Morning

There were times that Kyle loved his siblings and times that he hated their fucking guts. The night prior was a mixture. Sheila banned the three of them from sleeping in the same bed when they were kids for a reason. Chaos reigned supreme when they were unsupervised. Ike and Kyle would bully each other until they ran out of insults or dissolved into fits of laughter. As if to compound the issue, Marjorine could not laugh at a normal volume even if she were paid to. 

They spent a good amount of the night bitching about their parents. Kyle was still pissed at them for disrespecting Kenny, dead or otherwise. Marj ranted for a long time about that topic. Ike was also mad about how their parents treated him for changing his major even though he wasn’t happy studying law. Finally, they got to the topic of Kyle’s sexuality - one that he really didn’t want to get into. Marj and Ike clearly loved him because they had every argument under the sun lined up for why he should come out. Kyle denied them all, which dissolved into further bullying.

Suffice to say, they didn’t get much sleep last night. 

Kyle set an alarm on his phone for 5:30 in the morning. He was exhausted from a night of unhinged quality time, but he nearly leaped out of bed anyways. He tried to tell himself that there was no need for him to be excited. In fact, he should be nervous. His brain kept saying that this was an interrogation, but his heart believed otherwise. He brushed his teeth with trembling hands. Shit, he was nervous.

He emerged from the bathroom clean, minty, and dressed. Before he left, he made sure to give Marj a kiss on the forehead. To his surprise, she was still somewhat awake.

“Good luck, Kyle.” Her voice was scratchy and soft. “I hope it goes well for you.”

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“I just want you to be happy.” Marjorine mumbled lightly. He was losing her to sleep once more.

He moved to leave, but was interrupted by Ike’s whisper into the dark. “Where’s my kiss?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, but pressed his lips against his brother’s forehead as well. “You’re still dead to me.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can thank me after you get laid today.”

“I’m not getting laid today.” He knew that for certain.

“Not with that attitude you’re not.”

Kyle scoffed and finally left the room. His phone vibrated as he came down the stairs. It was Stan telling him he was parked outside. Instead of texting back, he threw on his coat and his shoes and headed out the door. His breath misted as he took a moment to gaze up at the early morning sky. It was clear out- a rarity around these parts. A woven tapestry of stars twinkled down on him as if they were welcoming him home after so long. He blamed the seizing in his chest on the cold.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Stan’s voice called out. 

Kyle looked ahead to find Stan sitting in his old ass truck with the window rolled down. The fogged headlights provided the only illumination. He could hear the decrepit engine loudly idling. He smiled as he walked closer. “Sorry, wouldn’t want you to break down.”

“Ha ha.” Stan rolled his eyes. “It’s real funny to curse me like that. Get in.”

Kyle obeyed and opened the door to the passenger side. It wasn’t until he was climbing in that he recognized this truck. It was Stan’s truck, his first truck. They went everywhere in her during high school. He remembered the handlebar molded into the dash just above the glovebox. He remembered the Casa Bonita air freshener (one of many now) from their last trip there before they had to stop going.

As Kyle leaned over to close the door, Stan spoke up. “Careful, it-”

“It sticks.” He said, and closed it properly on his first try. “I remember.”

Stan didn’t respond at first. He just put her in gear and they drove off. After a few seconds, he spoke up. “This must be really nostalgic for you.”

Kyle wrinkled his nose as he cringed. God, the fantasies he had about this very vehicle made him want to crawl into a hole and die. “Yeah, you could say that. Where are we going?”

“Breakfast first.” Stan insisted. “Did you eat?”

“No. I need coffee.”

Even in the dark, he could see Stan’s lips pull into a smile. “I know just the place.”

They pulled into the parking lot of a building Kyle didn’t recognize. It was clear that it was a restaurant of some kind. He could see tables and chairs inside. It wasn’t until they got out of the truck that he noticed the light up sign above the door. It read Tucker’s Bagels. It wasn’t hard for Kyle to put two and two together here. His nervousness returned in spades. Stan, as usual, had no qualms about Kyle’s anxiety. He threw open the door, setting the bell above ringing, and shouted out “what’s good, faggots?”

 It was suddenly clear to Kyle which parent Lucy mimicked most.

He entered in after, now significantly embarrassed. He could hear voices scolding Stan about how it was too early for his bullshit. Kyle looked around. They only had one customer- an elderly gentleman at one of the tables, completely unbothered by the scene before him. His eyes were glued to a newspaper as he sipped from a steaming mug. 

“Man, you can’t come in here calling us faggots.” A voice was saying from behind the counter. “You’re gonna upset people.”

“Who, Frank?” Stan lightheartedly argued, pointing to the elderly man. “That guy’s half deaf and the other half doesn’t care.”

Kyle turned and instantly recognized Craig Tucker. He was leaning over the counter and pinching the bridge of his nose. He wore a blue sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a Tucker’s Bagels embroidered apron. “It’s not about Frank. It’s about literally everyone else. Anyone could come in at any time.”

“You know damn well he and I are the only people who come here before 6:45.” Stan continued to argue.

A few feet behind Craig stood Tweek Tweak - Tweek Tucker, Kyle reminded himself. For a kid who was quite literally addicted to meth, he watched rather patiently as his husband fought a useless battle. Tweek looked good- healthy, even- with rosy cheeks and tamed blonde hair underneath a net. He was a far cry from the seven-year-old kid who pleaded for help on national news. He also wore a branded apron over a dark green flannel. It took Kyle a moment to notice that Tweek was staring at him. Within less than a second, recognition flashed in his eyes. Tweek began pulling on Craig’s sweater and pointing at him. 

Craig looked over to him and his jaw dropped. Then laughter bubbled up. “Holy shit, is that Kyle Broflovski?”

“This isn’t about him.” Stan redirected the conversation. 

“Fuck that.” Craig laughed again. “Kyle, where the hell have you been?”

Kyle tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Uh, Jersey.”

“Oh, I thought you upgraded when you left.” He suddenly seemed unimpressed. “You just traded in one shithole for another.” 

“Yeah, I heard Jersey smelled bad.” Tweek agreed. 

“I’m too tired for this.” Kyle muttered as exhaustion washed over him. 

“I’ll put a fresh pot on.”  Tweek said with far too much enthusiasm. “I have so many questions.”

“Okay. What can I get started for you guys?’

Kyle let Stan order and pay for him. He was thankful that Stan recognized he wanted out of that situation. They chose one of the many empty tables to sit at. He sat there with his head in his hands until Tweek brought him a mug of coffee. He brought it to his face and took way bigger of a sip than he should have. His tongue burned. Good. Maybe he wouldn’t have to talk as much.

Stan looked at him with an eyebrow raised. “You are tired.”

“I slept like shit.” He admitted. “Marj and Ike bitched all night.”

“Wait, did you actually sleep in the same bed with them?” 

Kyle took another sip. “Yeah. You didn’t do that with your siblings when you were little?”

“Shelley would have beat my ass, dude. And Ken -” He paused, frowning. “We’re not supposed to talk about him.”

Kyle frowned, too. He still remembered Kenny and his violent end. His death- and their shared responsibility to forget it- hung heavy between them. How could they ever let Kenny slip their minds like that? He was the best of all of them.

“Do you believe her?” Stan asked. He wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold. “I’m having trouble wrapping my head around all this.”

“Of course I believe her.” Kyle answered with more conviction than he felt. “She wouldn’t lie about something so….”

“Unbelievable?” 

“I was gonna say ‘serious.”

He suddenly remembered the diagram he drew yesterday sitting in his coat pocket. He fished it out and, without unfolding it, ripped it into tiny pieces. He felt Stan’s eyes silently watching him. Craig walked up to their table and dropped off their bagels. They were drowning in cream cheese. Kyle's appetite soured.

“So?” Craig asked, clearly expecting something.

“So what?” Stan asked him back.

“Are you two friends again or what?”

Kyle kept quiet and continued ripping up his McDonald’s placemat. It was important that he got rid of the evidence. He didn’t want to come across it later and undo all his progress.

“We’re working on it.”  Stan leveled Craig with a glare. “You’re interrupting.”

Craig, naturally, flipped him off. “Alright, fuck off then. Stop making a mess, dude.”

Kyle obeyed and simply forced himself to eat. His anxiousness was waning now that he wasn’t under the scrutiny of the Tuckers. He was still uncomfortable. Of course, he was having breakfast with the one person he wanted to spend this trip avoiding. Stan would know the truth soon. The words would be out of his control as soon as they were out of his mouth. The ball will be out of his court. There is a high likelihood that Stan will never speak to him again after he learns the truth. He didn’t understand why that probability hurt so bad. That was his plan all along. 

“Oh fuck, I lost track of time.” Stan said. He quickly wiped his face with a napkin, his eyes glued to his watch. “We have to go.”

They stood up to leave. Kyle fished a five dollar bill out of his wallet and left it on the table. Craig and Tweek deserved a little extra for having to clean up their half eaten bagels and a hundred little paper squares. Suddenly Stan’s hand was gripping his arm. Kyle let himself be pulled away. He wished he had more coffee.

Kyle had no idea where Stan was taking him, but he trusted him enough not to ask questions. That’s not to say he didn’t have a few questions when Stan pulled up to Buca De Faggoncini. More questions arose when Stan suddenly decided to offroad and they drove into the same valley they stampeded through the morning before. The headlights eventually revealed a dark mass ahead, which Kyle finally realized was the hot air balloon he rented yesterday. Shit, he still had to pay for that.

Stan came to a stop and shut the engine off. “Okay, let’s go.”

“If you wanted to return it, we could have waited until daybreak at least.” Kyle told him.

Stan snorted as he opened his door. “Returning it is your problem, dude. I have other plans.”

Kyle got out of the truck, too. It was unbearably cold yet again. His coat wasn’t thick enough for pre-daylight hours. Stan seemed completely unbothered by the temperature. He climbed into the basket and pulled on the chain. A magnificent fire lit, bathing Stan in an ethereal glow. Long shadows cast over his face. Kyle felt pierced in the chest. He was so beautiful. 

“Come on, we don’t have much time.” Stan told him. 

When he held out his hand, Kyle took it. If he wasn’t so certain Stan was pissed off at him, he would think that this was a romantic gesture of some kind. He climbed into the basket, too. Stan let go of his hand and Kyle hated that. They began to lift off the ground.

“There’s no escaping now.” 

Kyle looked down. They weren’t that high up. “I could still jump out.”

“You won’t.” Stan predicted. “Aren’t you tired of running away from me yet?”

Kyle swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. At least he was warmer from the fire. “You have no idea.”

“Then tell me.” There was a surprising lack of anger in his voice. “Kyle, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure all this out. I don’t know what went wrong.”

“You deserve to know the truth.” Kyle looked over the edge again. They were ascending faster than he expected. He definitely couldn’t jump out now. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Beginnings are usually where most stories start.”

Kyle did think back to the beginning. The fifth grade, in P.E., realizing he liked boys just as much as he liked girls. Specifically liking the way Stan looked playing dodgeball. Or later, when he realized that he had a major crush and never said a word about it to anyone until his sister dragged it out of him. He shook his head. No, that wasn’t a good place to start at all. 

Stan let go of the chain, snuffing the fire out. Silence and darkness consumed both of them. Kyle couldn’t quite make out the horizon. He definitely couldn’t make out Stan. This could work in his favor. He could just say it into the dark.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kyle finally said. “This is all my fault. I let my emotions get the better of me. You deserved better than how I treated you.”

“Okay, I appreciate the accountability, but I don’t understand why you were so pissed off in the first place.” 

“I wasn’t mad at you, I was mad at the situation.” He tried to clarify. 

“Didn’t seem that way to me.” Stan accused. “You told me I was ruining my life. How else was I supposed to take that?”

Guilt rushed through him. There wasn’t any other way to take it. It was intended to be just as painful as he felt at that time.

“Kyle.” Stan huffed out a sigh. “It’s too early to go quiet. Work with me here.”

“I’m trying.” He let out a shaky breath. “This is really hard for me.”

Stan scoffed. “Don’t get me started on hardship, dude. I raised a kid by myself. I went through a divorce. That shit sucked. I needed you in my corner and you fucking bailed on me. You owe me an explanation.”

“I- I was jealous.” Kyle suddenly didn’t have enough oxygen. “I was so insanely jealous.”

He could almost hear Stan rolling his eyes. “Of what?”

His heart was racing in his chest. He wanted God to strike him down. Anything would be better than this vulnerability. “Of Wendy.”

“Come on, dude. I know that the two of you had that rivalry about who was gonna be valedictorian-”

“Jesus Christ, this isn’t about grades!” He snapped. “What kind of psychopath do you think I am?”

“So what? Did you have a crush on her or something? Because that’s really uncool.”

“What? No!” Heat rose to his cheeks. He felt so fucking queasy. “God, that relationship would have been a nightmare.”

“Then why were you jealous of her?”

“Because she had you !” Kyle told him. “I wanted you to choose me and you didn’t.”

In the corner of his eye, Kyle could see the sky morph color. The sun was starting to rise. The horizon to the west was lightening to a bright purple, swallowing up the stars. Is this what Stan meant? He didn’t want to miss the sunrise? His anxiousness was growing with the light.

Stan’s face scrunched up in confusion. Kyle could finally make out his features again. “Choose you? I chose you as my best friend. The two of you weren’t in competition for me.”

“You’re not listening, Stan!” 

“Jesus Christ, you’re making this impossible.” He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “I don’t understand what the problem is.”

“I was in love with you, you absolute idiot!” Kyle shouted and immediately covered his mouth with his hands. He was going to throw up over the side of this fucking basket.

Stan’s expression slid into shock. “What?”

Kyle couldn’t say anything for a moment. He knew that wasn’t the end of it. There were still things to be rolled over and inspected between them; rocks to lift to see what creatures lie beneath. Things were crawling out of the woodwork now. He couldn’t stop it if he tried. God, did he want to stop this. The problem was that he loved Stan and he wanted him to have the best of all things, even the best of himself. 

“Oh my God. You’re serious.”  Stan continued, looking absolutely bewildered. He ran his hands through his hair. “For how long?”

“We were eleven when it started.” Kyle nearly whispered. “I don’t know how or why-”

“Eleven!?” His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “You kept this from me for fifteen years? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

Kyle flinched. Stan’s response was more than reasonable. He also didn’t know what was wrong with him. “I had my reasons for not saying anything.”

“What reasons could possibly justify lying to me for this long?”

“What, do you want a fucking list?” He crossed his arms. 

Something in Stan softened. “Knowing you, you actually do have a list.”

“Of course I do.” Kyle softened, too. Fuck, he loved him. No one got him like Stan did.

“Could you just give me the Spark Notes?”

The reasons raced through his mind, one following the other in a long chain: he didn’t want to lose their friendship, he thought Stan was straight, he thought confessing would be too much for Stan to handle at any given point, Stan and Wendy were happy and he didn’t want to ruin that, he would have to come out, Gerald would be disappointed in him, he didn’t want to prove Eric Cartman correct, he wanted to be normal. There were so many. Stan could have his pick of the liter. 

“I was scared.” He finally said. “I am scared. Of rejection, I guess.”

“From me?” Stan pointed to his chest.

“From literally anyone.”

“Okay. Does anyone know?” 

“Marjorine does.” He admitted. “Ike correctly guessed. Now you.”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“End of list.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shook his head. “This whole situation is fucked. You should have just told me.”

“No, I couldn’t have.” Kyle insisted. “You were so happy , Stan. And before the two of you got together- I mean, you were going through so much shit with your dad and Kenny. I would have just made it worse. Once you were engaged and the baby was on the way, I knew that there was no way I could recover from this.” 

“I guess that explains why you exploded on me back then.” Stan considered. “But it wasn’t right for you to hide shit from me. You should have told me years ago.”

“Up until yesterday I thought you were straight.” He shrugged. “Why would I set myself up for rejection like that? You were in love with someone else.”

Stan didn’t respond immediately. Kyle turned to admire the sunrise again. A sliver of sunlight was beginning to peak out beyond the mountains, the sky above a swirl of purple, pink, and orange. It occurred to him how much he missed Colorado and all the people he left behind. He let himself feel that ache now after so long. He wasn’t healed at all. 

“I wish I never left.” Kyle said. He gripped the edge of the basket. “I wish I hadn’t been such a jealous dickwad. Maybe we could have worked something out.”

“It was hard not having you around.” Stan came to lean over the edge with him. They were nearly touching. Kyle could feel the heat radiating off him. “I kept thinking about all the moments with Lucy you missed out on- her first words, her first steps, that kind of shit. It would piss me off so bad. But I kind of get it.”

“You do?” Kyle asked. 

“Yeah. I mean, I can see how it would have eaten at you. I can’t blame you for trying to get out of that situation.” He shrugged. “I hate the way you handled all of this. I can’t stress enough how I wish you had just been up front with me from the start. But yeah, I can see why you thought leaving was necessary.”

“You are being far more generous about this than I expected.” Kyle couldn’t believe how well this was going. “I honestly thought you’d be furious with me.”

“Oh, I am.” Stan told him. “But I’m also… relieved, I guess. It’s a weird mix.”

“What do you mean?”

“Knowing that I didn’t do anything to ruin our friendship makes me feel better.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “It was because you decided to be shitty.”

Kyle frowned. That was well deserved. His actions were shitty and self-centered. He would take them back if he could, knowing the damage they caused. There was no point in defending himself now. 

“On top of that,” Stan continued, his smile growing wider. “learning that you had the hots for me for so long-.”

“Ugh, dude.” Another tide of nausea and now mortification crashed into him. The last thing Kyle needed was to be ripped on by his crush.  “Could you not?”

“What? It’s flattering.” The way Stan looked at him- with affection and desire - put him in a flatline. “I’m flattered.”

All it took was a step forward for Stan to cradle Kyle’s face in his hands. Before he could even think to say anything, their lips were suddenly pressed together. Kyle’s brain shuts down . All he could feel was his heart hammering against his ribcage and the impossible softness of Stan’s lips against his. Kyle breathed in the scent of his aftershave and it was all suddenly too much. He didn’t deserve Stan’s kisses. Not after all the terrible things he did. Kyle pulled away. Grief and shame weighed heavily on him. 

“What’s wrong?” Stan asked him. He tucked one of Kyle’s loose curls behind his ear.

“I’m so sorry.” Kyle’s voice broke and his eyes burned. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but I am. I thought you would hate me.”

Stan pulled him into a hug. Kyle nestled his face into the crook of his neck, just like he always wanted to. “I did hate you for a while, but I’m past it now. You can move past this, too.”

Kyle choked on a sob. He hated crying. He could hear his dad’s voice calling him a pussy. Gerald would be so ashamed if he could see him now- in tears and in the arms of another man. The only biological child that survived turned out to be a queer. He was such an embarrassment. No wonder Heidi-.  

Those thoughts were suddenly silenced by the sensation of fingers in his hair. Kyle felt himself relax as Stan massaged his scalp. “You don’t need to cry. Everything’s okay.” 

Kyle willed himself to calm down, deeply inhaling Stan’s scent again. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

“No.” Stan told him. “But you can earn it.”

That was more than he ever could have hoped for. He didn’t know what that truly meant for them- or if there would ever be a them - but Kyle was smart enough not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would treasure these little crumbs of affection for the rest of his life, regardless of whether or not he received more. When Stan kissed him, he-

Holy shit.

Stan kissed him.

He told Stan he was in love with him and the sun didn’t explode. There it was, to their east, still slowly climbing over the horizon. Kyle scrubbed at his face with his hands. Stan rubbed at his arms like every touch wasn’t sending lightning bolts down his spine.

“Stan?” He asked once he felt human enough again.

“Yeah?”

“Did you intend for this to be romantic?”

Stan smirked at him. It lit Kyle on fire. “Maybe.”

A realization dawned. It was just them, aimlessly drifting hundreds of feet in the air. Their only guiding force was the breeze. No one could possibly hold them accountable for their actions. There wasn’t anyone around for miles. As far as Kyle was concerned, they were the only two people left in existence. 

Kyle pulled Stan in. Their mouths crashed together hungrily in a kiss that was more teeth than anything else. Kyle didn’t care because Stan had arm wrapped around his waist and the other hand woven deeply into his curls. Kyle’s hands roamed where they’ve always wanted to- Stan’s face, his hair, his shoulders, his chest. Heat bloomed everywhere . They had so much to catch up on, so many years of missed contact they had to speed run through. Neither seemed willing to take anything slow. Kyle let out a whine because Jesus Christ that was Stan’s tongue in his mouth. Stan was already driving him insane. He kissed like he knew exactly how Kyle wanted it, and dear God did he want it.

It was occurring to him that it was only, like, eight in the morning. They had the whole day with nowhere to be. His mind was racing with possibilities of exactly how they could ‘reconcile’ when he suddenly heard a crunching sound. Kyle lost his sense of balance as his foot fell through the basket floor.

Stan helped stabilize him, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “Shit, are you okay?

They looked down at the hole left behind, then back up to each other. Stan’s vibrant blue eyes were full of concern and fondness. He wasn’t letting go. Despite his erratic heart beat, Kyle smiled. “Never better.”

The sun was higher in the sky by the time they got the balloon into the back of Stan’s truck. The drive to the storage rental place where Kyle initially got it was filled with long stretches of stillness. There was a different sort of tension between them now. Instead of awkwardness, the air buzzed in suspense. The day was ripe with possibilities. There were so many questions running through his head, the most prominent being “what now?” Kyle wasn’t willing to broach that topic. Judging by Stan’s silence, he wasn’t either.

They pulled up to the location and hopped out. A group of employees came up to assist with unloading the balloon as Stan and Kyle went into the office. Kyle immediately recognized the man who greeted them behind the counter. It was another kid they used to hang out with: Scott Malkinson. Scott smiled at them politely, but Kyle didn’t get the vibe that he was recognized back. 

“How can I help you guys?” Scott asked them.

“We’re returning a balloon.” Kyle told him. 

“Something really weird happened with it.” Stan spoke up with a fair amount of confusion.

“Oh?” Scott asked. Kyle instantly noticed the change in demeanor. Where he was just polite with him, he was invested in Stan. He actually perked up at being spoken to.

For Stan’s part, he didn’t seem to catch on. He gestured toward Kyle. “Yeah, he nearly fell through. There’s a giant hole in the floor now.”

Scott’s demeanor changed again. His smile died and was replaced with a scowl. “I see. Unfortunately, we’ll have to charge you a repair fee for that.”

“What? Why?” Kyle asked.

Scott began to shuffle through some paperwork on his side of the counter. He pulled out a thick stack of paperwork and began highlighting a specific section. “From the contract you signed yesterday: The renter acknowledges and agrees that certain activities are strictly prohibited during the operation of the hot air balloon. These activities include, but are not limited to, smoking, vaping, consuming alcohol or drugs, and fantasizing about, considering, or engaging in sexual activity. In the event that the hot air balloon sustains damage due to prohibited activities, including but not limited to sexual activity, the renter will be liable for the full cost of repairs.”

Kyle’s face erupted into a blush. “There’s no way that’s what it says! You’re making it up!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Broflovski. Perhaps you should read your contracts before you sign them.” Scott said rather callously. “That will be an $150 charge on top of your twenty-four hour rental fee.”

“I’m really confused. We didn’t have any kind of sexual contact anywhere.” Jesus Christ, he couldn’t imagine a more mortifying scenario. 

“Ah, but your contract states that even thinking about it is prohibited.” Scott argued. His lisp was coming out with full force. So much for all that speech therapy. “The balloons can’t handle even the mere thought of buttsex. Two grown men with unresolved sexual tension is too much for the wicker to handle.”

“I can’t fucking believe this is real life right now.” Kyle muttered to himself.

“Listen, this must be some sort of misunderstanding.” Thank God Stan was coming to his rescue. “Kyle and I would never-” 

“Stan, you split me open in the handicap stall at Skeeter’s four months ago.” Scott fixed him with a poisonous stare. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

No one said anything for far too long. Kyle felt petrified where he was. Scott was obviously pissed, and Stan just looked confused. That was until recognition finally dawned on him. “Oh yeah.”

Scott’s saccharine smile returned. “My point exactly. Your total will be $485.01.”

“Totally fair.” Stan nodded in resignation.

Kyle fished out his wallet and handed his card to Stan. His eyes burned. He needed to get the fuck out of this building before he exploded. “I need you to handle this. I- I gotta go.”

Without waiting, he turned on his heels and left the room. Stan called out after him, but Kyle ignored it. He pushed the glass door open and stepped back outside. He dissolved into a fit of laughter before it even closed behind him. He was certain that Stan and Scott could definitely hear him, but he didn’t care. All he knew was that life was fucking absurd. The sleep deprivation and lack of coffee were starting to catch up with him. After a few minutes of absolutely losing his shit, he had to take a seat on the curb. Stan eventually followed him outside. Looking up at him caused Kyle to spill over in giggles again. 

“Jesus, I thought you were crying, dude.” Stan wore a confused smile as he sat next to Kyle on the cold concrete. “You okay?”

“Y-you railed Captain Diabetes and you didn’t even remember.” He stuttered out.

Stan shrugged. “The backs of heads tend to blur together.”

Kyle was starting to wheeze from laughing too hard. “Holy shit. He was so jealous, dude.”

“That’s his problem.” He smirked. “Here.”

Kyle looked into his hand where Stan had placed his card. He wiped his tears away with the other. “Did you get me a receipt?”

“I was gonna, but then he started writing his number down on the back and I didn’t need that in my life.”

“Oh my God, you’re such a dick.” Kyle’s cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. 

Stan reached out to cradle his face. Kyle’s heart slammed to a stop. “You’re so gorgeous.”

Another breath passed between them before they were kissing again. Neither cared that Scott Malkinson could absolutely see what they were doing through the glass. Kyle savored every moment of it, dedicating each millisecond to memory. The way their lips slid together, how their teeth slightly knocked together when the angle wasn’t right, the soft rush of air from Stan breathing through his nose, the pokiness of his five o’ clock shadow. It was all so perfect. Kyle refused to delude himself into thinking they’d do it again. They might, but he wouldn’t count on it. Every kiss could be their last.

Stan pulled away to speak, but not by much. Their lips were still barely touching. “I have to admit something.”

“What’s that?”

“I was thinking about sex while we were in the balloon.” He whispered.

Kyle beamed. “I was also thinking about it.”

Stan pulled farther away. Their eyes met, and Kyle could feel himself melting into a puddle of goo. How was this real? What did he do to deserve a mid-life switch to the good timeline? 

“Let me take you home.” It was a request, not a demand. 

Kyle was suddenly a burning puddle of goo. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to throw caution to the wind and let Stan have his way with him. Unfortunately, his logical side won out as it usually did. What Stan did with consenting adults was his business, but the ‘backs of heads’ comment told Kyle that he probably had a lot of partners. He had no way of knowing if Stan used protection with every single one of them. There was no way he was going back home with emotional baggage and chlamydia. They had to be more careful than that.

Kyle hummed thoughtfully, making up his mind. “I have a better idea.”

Chapter Text

Kenny stepped out of the tent. Despite the sweltering July heat, he had a goofy smile plastered across his face. Stan and Marjorine were waiting outside for him. The Park County Fair rolled into town again that year. They were definitely too old for this kind of activity. Stan would be nineteen in just a few months. Fatherhood would follow very shortly after. He had more adult things to be doing. He could have picked up a shift, but Kenny insisted they go do something fun. Standing in line to get a Tarot reading wasn’t fun in Stan’s book.

Kenny’s eyes settled on Marjorine. “Babe, you won’t believe the cards I drew. I got the Ten of Cups!”

“That’s wonderful, Ken.” Marj beamed up at him. 

“What’s that mean?” Stan asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. He really didn’t believe in Tarot, but he heard the tent in front of him was air conditioned. That alone was worth the ten bucks he was about to spend. Unfortunately for him, his brother was really into this kind of shit. He blamed Henrietta and her weird ass hobbies.

“Dude, it’s the ‘happily ever after’ card.” Kenny told him, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend. “It’s smooth sailing from here.”

“Must be nice.” Stan grumbled. 

“It might be in your future, too.” Marjorine said. “There’s only one way to find out.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll go, but only because you bullied me into it.”

Kenny snorted. “No one’s bullying you, dude.”

Stan walked into the tent and was immediately blasted with cool air. His eyes needed to adjust from the bright afternoon behind him and the dark, candlelit atmosphere in front of him. It smelled of burning incense. 

“Welcome, Stan.”A sultry voice greeted him. “Please sit.”

After a few blinks, Stan could see much better. An older blonde woman sat at the opposite end of a small, round table. He followed her instructions, pulling the chair out for himself.

“I’m Lady Lenore.” The woman greeted. 

“Nice to meet you.” He rushed through the small talk. “Listen, not to be a dick, but I really don’t believe in psychics and that kind of stuff. In fact, I’m anti-psychic. I only came here because my brother wanted me to.”

Lady Lenore smiled. Close up, Stan could see her bright red lipstick and purple eyeshadow. She wore a ren faire style polyester velvet cloak. Underneath was a very low cut dress. Nausea suddenly overwhelmed him and he looked away. 

“That’s very lucky for you, because I’m not a psychic.” She told him. “Psychics are professional bullshitters. Tarot is different, believe it or not.”

He crossed his arms. “How?”

“Tarot is all about interpretation. It’s guidance, not prediction. We work together to make sense of the cards. It’s really just for fun.”

Stan felt himself deflating. He wasn’t expecting such a reasonable response. “Fine, let’s play.”

Lady Lenore smiled again and tapped a wooden box next to her. There was a slot at the top where money was clearly supposed to go. “As fun as it may be, I don’t work for free.”

Stan scowled and shoved his ten dollar bill into the box. That was the last of his paycheck. He really wished he’d gone to work today. How was he supposed to afford a baby in these conditions?

“Thank you.” She opened up another box and pull out a deck of long, narrow cards. “These are the cards. I’m going to shuffle them. You will draw three, one at a time. These cards represent your past, present, and future. Remember, these cards can’t predict anything. They’re for guidance.”

He nodded. She shuffled quite impressively for a few minutes, then fanned them out for him. “Choose one.”

Stan’s eyes scanned over the deck. They all appeared identical. He chose one at random. Lady Lenore took it from him and placed it face up on the table. The card depicted four long sticks supporting a garland. People appeared to be celebrating in the background.

“Ah, the four of wands. The Wand suite is all about action. This particular card indicates stability, usually achieved with multiple people pitching in. You can see that the wands in this depiction are a stable structure.”

“That’s really weird.” Stan said quietly. He felt a gnawing cold feeling in his stomach. 

“I take it this card is accurate to your past?”

He nodded. “My dad is an abusive alcoholic. A real piece of shit. My siblings and I convinced my mom to file for divorce. Once he left, things became… stable for us.”

Lenore frowned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Stan shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Choose another card.” 

He did, choosing a little bit more to the left. Again, she took it from him and placed it face up. This one needed no interpretation as the name was scrolled upon the bottom. Death rode in on a pale horse. 

“Oh, Jesus.” He muttered.

“It’s not a literal death, Stan.” Lenore told him. “No need to worry.”

“What does it mean if not a literal death?”

“It’s more metaphorical than that. Big changes are happening in your life right now that require you to pivot. It’s the death of the status quo, if you will. I assume you just graduated high school, so that’s something.”

“God, that’s the least of my worries.” He ran his fingers through his hair as if to highlight his frustration. “I’m about to become a father.”

He was surprised to hear her gasp in delight, her face stretching into a wide grin. “That’s wonderful news! Congratulations!”

“Um, thank you?” He muttered in confusion.

“I’m sure you’ll be a great parent, Stan.” She cheered. “I’m so excited for you.”

Stan’s eyes stung. No one had congratulated him before. In fact, most people either responded with shaming or pity when he told them. He wasn’t even sure if he was happy about it. How could he when he received so little support? Ken and Marj were really the only people who didn’t treat him any differently. His mom was still disappointed in him. Wendy’s parents forbade him from seeing her until the wedding. Despite the fact that she was a legal adult at this point, she was basically grounded until she left for college. She still called him at night after her parents were asleep. Their reaction to the pregnancy infuriated him. They homeschooled her for her last semester, completely disregarding the professional advice of all the administration. She wasn’t allowed to come to her own graduation. She’s not even allowed to have a baby shower. 

As for his best friend, Kyle was very busy. He was neutral on the pregnancy. He didn’t shame Stan, but he wasn’t excited, either. Kyle had been working at his dad’s law firm for the past several months. Now that school was over, he worked there full time. Stan’s texts usually went unread for days. Logically, he knew Kyle’s preparations to leave the state were keeping him busy. He seemed to be regretful about his schedule, but that didn’t make Stan feel any less lonely.

“Are you ready for your last card?”

He nodded, and chose a card on the right. She placed it face up on the table. This one didn’t look good, either. It was a bright red heart pierced by three swords. A storm raged in the background. Stan swallowed.

Lady Lenore’s red lips pressed into a thin line. “The Three of Swords. The heartbreak card.”

“So I should expect someone to break my heart?” Stan snorted derisively. “I’m about to get married, so I can’t see that happening.”

“It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be anything that causes you grief. The Sword Suite reflects challenges that you will encounter. This specific card is emotional turmoil. If we look at all of your cards chronologically, it seems that whatever changes you’re experiencing now could seriously wound you down the line.”

His mind went straight to his unborn child. Stan hasn’t been allowed to attend any of Wendy’s appointments, so he had no idea if they’re truly okay. She assured him multiple times that their daughter is safe and healthy, but he was still worried. He worried for his baby and his fiance nearly constantly. What-if questions wormed their way in late at night, stealing away his breath in a rush of panic. He felt the same way in that dark, cool tent. His chest tightened. It was a familiar and unwelcome sensation.

“Being a parent breaks your heart in a million tiny ways.” Lenore supplied gently. It was clear she was trying to placate him. “That could be all it is.”

Stan took a steadying breath and tried to push all of the negativity out of his mind. The baby was fine. Wendy was fine, albeit unhappy. They will be much happier when they’re in Denver together as a new family. These cards were bullshit. They had no agency over his life. There would be no heartbreak. He’s going to be happy by choice. After he left Lady Lenore’s tent, he would never think of this hand again.

“I guess that’s it, then?” He asked.

She smiled at him again. “Yes, that’s your complete reading. Thank you for coming in.”

He nodded at her and rose to leave. As he pulled the fabric of the entrance back to reveal the sun again, she called out to him.

“Oh, and Stan? You’re going to be fine.”

He frowned as he stepped back into the summer heat. He didn’t remember giving her his name.

Thursday Morning

When Kyle said he had a better idea, Stan was hoping for something sexier than a phlebotomy. Actually, he was hoping for literally anything else. He had a visceral hatred of needles, derived from his time in the hospital for a bad concussion from high school football and one particularly negligent nurse. This nurse, at least, he knew.

“Are you ready, Stan?” Bebe Donovan asked. She was very kindly blocking the needle from view. 

“God, why would you ask me that?” He felt woozy at just the idea. 

“You can do this.” She encouraged him with a smile. She and her pink scrubs were far too chipper. “Just look the other way and go to your happy place.”

He obeyed her instructions. He fixated on one of the many medical PSA posters that hung up in this room and thought of Kyle, who already had his turn and was waiting for him outside the door. The amount of people that he would allow himself to get jabbed for was actually pretty low. Wild that his ex-best friend made the cut.

Maybe he should reconsider Kyle’s label. Things were way more complicated now. 

Stan spent the whole drive home the night prior- with Wendy and Sharon sleeping soundly in the back- formulating his hot air balloon plan. He knew that he would be trapping Kyle into a position where he had to be truthful and he was putting himself into a position where he had to be honest about his own feelings. Romantic intentions be damned, they needed to get to the core of the problem. If anything further happened, then that was simply a benefit of them finally being honest with each other.

Stan was blindsided when Kyle said that he was in love with him. 

It felt weird having someone so close to him harbor secret romantic feelings. It was sneaky and manipulative of Kyle to keep this to himself for so long. How many times had they been alone together? How many times had they slept in the same bed? Knowing the Broflovskis, that wasn’t completely strange, but it didn’t feel good knowing that Kyle could have taken advantage of the situation at any time. 

Stan knew he should feel creeped out- disgusted, even- but he really couldn’t bring himself to. His emotions were becoming tangled in his mind. It was hard to get them all sorted out, like separating charging cables that had been thrown together into a drawer. On one hand, it infuriated him that Kyle lied for so long. On the other, Kyle made his fucking heart flutter like he had some sort of condition. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. Maybe when he and Wendy first got together?

Do straight men have love lives this complex?

“Alright, you’re all done!” Bebe chirped next to him. “Great work.”

Stan looked over and found her wrapping up his arm in a blue bandage. Next to her, on the counter, sat several vials and a pint of his blood. Kyle, Stan, and Bebe cut a deal. She would let them ‘skip the line’- not including people with serious diseases- and get tested earlier if they donated blood. 

“So when will we know?” He asked her.

Bebe threw her gloves in the trash and began washing her hands in the sink. She shrugged. “I couldn’t really say. That’s up to the lab, not me.” 

Stan frowned. They didn’t have a lot of time before Kyle flew back home. Who knew when (or if, he added bitterly) they’d see each other again? He could only hope that they’d have the results by Saturday. 

“Stan.” Bebe spoke up. “I know it’s not very professional of me to say this, but I’m happy for you.”

“Huh?” He looked at her in confusion. Her friendliness was pretty off-putting considering how she was one of Wendy’s closest confidants. He’d received some very nasty texts from her after he filed. “For why?”

“I’m not gonna stand here and say I called it, because I didn’t.” She continued. “But I’m glad that you and Kyle are finally addressing your relationship. I think you two would make a cute couple.”

His face erupted into a blush. He didn’t like that. “Were… were other people calling it?”

Bebe grinned like she was hiding something. “Don’t worry about that. It’s time for snacks.”

She directed him back into the lobby where Kyle was waiting for him. He sat in a chair, bright long windows to his back, sipping on a juice box. A green bandage was wrapped about his elbow. His deep red hair was brightly highlighted in the morning light. Stan’s breath caught in his throat.  

“Have a good day.” Bebe waved goodbye as the door began to close. “Give Wendy my love.”

“Uh, alright.” He gave a polite nod before moving to join Kyle.

Kyle was sitting right next to an end table, littered with cheap snacks. “How’d it go?”

“It was okay.” Stan answered honestly. He sat down in the seat opposite the table. “It didn’t suck as much as it normally does.”

“I saved you the chocolate chip cookie.” Kyle told him, pointing to one of the many wrapped treats. The nurses must be offloading their older stock onto them.

 “That’s right. I forgot you don’t like chocolate.” Stan tore it open and took a bite. He was suddenly filled with disappointment, his face contorting in disgust. “It’s stale.”

Kyle frowned, but Stan could tell he was amused. “Sorry, dude. There’s other options.”

“None as good.” He pouted under his breath.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kyle suddenly asked, chewing on his straw.

“Depends on the question.” He answered, perusing the snacks available to him. He chose the cheese crackers.

“It’s about Wendy and why you divorced, I guess.”

Stan looked up at him with an eyebrow raised. That was curious. “Fine, but in return you’re telling me about this engagement you had.”

Kyle nodded but looked vaguely nervous at the idea. “That’s a fair trade.”

“I’m actually surprised you don’t already know.” Stan said. 

He frowned again. “I didn’t think it was my business to know. Marj only told me about the divorce, but not why.”

“Oh, and now you think you’re entitled to that information?” Stan teased him. It was never a secret, although rumors did swirl when he returned to South Park with a four-year-old and no wife.

Possessiveness flashed in Kyle’s eyes. “Yes.”

Heat rushed through him. Stan swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I, uh, can’t argue with that. Long story short: I became resentful of her.”

Kyle cocked his head to the side. “Why?”

“She had what I wanted: school and a social life. All I was doing was working and taking care of Lucy. It burns you out after a while. Once I figured out that supporting a kid was easier by myself, I dumped her and moved back in with Mom for a while.”

“I’m sorry.” Kyle muttered. “That really sucks.”

He shrugged. “It’s better now. I have primary custody. Wendy and Tolkien have her on the weekends. It’s manageable.”

“That doesn’t seem like much of a life.” Kyle remarked. “I mean, what do you do for fun? Do you even have time for fun?”

Stan’s brows furrowed. “Don’t be so judgmental. I host a D&D campaign on Saturdays, if you must know.”

“I wasn’t trying to be judgmental.” He explained. “I just… nevermind. It’s dumb.”

“Tell me.”

“I just… I want you to be happy. That’s all.”

Kyle gave him another look. Stan knew it instantly: longing. How many times had Kyle made that face at him and he never noticed the meaning? His heartbeat fluttered again and an overwhelming sense of desire came over him. Not necessarily sexual, but a desire for companionship. A desire for peace. Why did he get the feeling they were both longing for the same things?

Then the moment was over. Kyle sniffled as if the lobby was dusty. Stan couldn’t help but smile at that. 

“I need to amend a past statement.” Kyle told him.

“God, you sound like your dad.” Stan smiled even wider.

He scoffed and rolled those gorgeous eyes of his. “Stan, please.”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. “Your amendment?”

“I forgot someone when I was listing off people who know.”

Stan had to think for a moment about what list he was talking about. “Oh, the list of people who know you’re bi?”

Kyle instantly shushed him and then rapidly looked around to see if anyone overheard. It was still pretty early in the morning. They were all alone. They couldn’t even see anyone at the check-in desk. 

“Dude.” Kyle scolded him. “Don’t be a blabber mouth.”

“No one cares that you like dick.” Stan argued. “Get with the times.”

His eyes narrowed for a moment. “No. Anyways, there’s a fourth person on that list.”

“I assume your ex-fiancé.” Stan tore open his cracker package. “Anyone I know?”

“Yes, actually.” Kyle said. “Do you remember Heidi Turner?”

Stan froze, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”

He nodded, looking almost mischievous.

“Heidi Turner? The girl who dated Cartman and who Wendy fought?”

“Because she called Marj ‘flat’? Yeah, that one.” Kyle confirmed, arms crossed close to his chest.

“She was your fiancé?” He was absolutely bewildered. 

“Yes.” 

“I have so many questions.” 

Kyle gave him a withered look. “Well stop talking and I’ll fucking explain.”

Stan relaxed in his chair and began munching on his crackers.

After a deep breath, he began. “As it turns out, Heidi’s family is originally from New Jersey. After everything that happened, she left to go live with her aunt and uncle. We both ended up at Stevens- it’s a college, not some guy’s house. Although, to be fair, we did meet at some guy’s house. I don’t know, there was something about her that really called to me. She was like a little ray of sunshine. I was still really sad and withdrawn then. My roommates were really encouraging me to have a life or whatever. Shit, they still do.”

“Wait.” Stan interrupted, mid cracker. “You’re still living with your college roommates?”

“Why are you talking with food in your mouth?” Kyle scolded him. 

Stan’s jaw snapped closed. He took a moment to mourn the experience of living in a dorm and having roommates that aren’t eight and also his child. What he wouldn’t do to split chores with someone. Stan didn’t need money. He got by on his normal paycheck, though the child support and alimony gave him some breathing room. A division of labor was what he really wanted.

“We started dating.” Kyle continued. “I wasn’t really looking to commit like that, but things were healthy between us. She respected my boundaries, I learned to respect hers. She gave me space when I needed it. It was nice. It took me a while to heal enough to actually get serious enough to date.”

Stan frowned. Heal from what? Some unknown wound? Was it something that Stan caused him, or was it self-inflicted? Kyle bottled up his feelings for over a decade. It wasn’t Stan’s fault if it exploded. Their falling out clearly hurt both of them. Stan considered for the first time if his desire to keep Kyle close was untenable. Pining aside, what if Kyle needed him to go just as badly and Stan needed him to stay? 

“Things got very serious between us. After we got through undergrad, we decided to move in together. I remember this one time we had to go furniture shopping. We were both pretty broke still, so we decided to split the cost. There was some bullshit with the paperwork- I don’t remember the specifics- but they put our names down as ‘Kyle and Heidi Broflovski’. That made her so happy, dude. She made me happy. It was then that I knew that we were meant to be together.”

Stan’s stomach turned as he listened. He was ashamed to admit that envy was a feeling he was familiar with- other people’s lives, their careers, their stress levels- but jealousy was new. He’s never wanted a person before like this, not even Wendy, but when Kyle said that he was meant to be with someone else…. Stan shook his head clear. He didn’t want to think about that. 

“Are you good?” Kyle asked him. 

“Yeah.” Stan ate another cracker in order to avoid making any meaningful looks.

Kyle exhaled as if he were nervous. “I proposed when the time felt right. We were still getting our Masters’. We were very broke, but that didn’t really matter. As time went on, the more wrong it felt for me to hide from her. I mean, she was going to be my wife. So I sat her down and told her that I was bi.”

Stan frowned. Why was it okay for Kyle to hide it from him, then? “How did she take it?”

Kyle let out a breathless little laugh. “In hindsight, poorly. She just listened as I rambled. I could tell that she was faking her support. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was like she lost respect for me. Then, like a week later, something happened.”

Stan held his breath in anticipation.

“I came home one day and saw Eric fucking Cartman in my house.” Disgust was etched into Kyle’s face as he stared at the floor. Deep lines pulled at the corners of his mouth.

“What the fuck?”

“She didn’t fucking tell me, dude.” He continued. “I had no idea she was even talking to him. After all the effort she made to move past all that trauma he caused. Shit, she knew everything he did to me and Marjorine. I don’t know if she was convinced or manipulated into talking to him or what. Frankly, I don’t really care. All I know is that she let him into my house on my couch. To invite him in like he was welcome there was like being stabbed in the back.”

Stan blinked in confusion. “So, like, what were they doing? Were they naked or something?”

Kyle redirected his disgusted face onto him. “What the fuck? No! They were just… sitting there. I mean, they might have been making out. I don’t know.” 

Stan considered Kyle’s situation. Eric Cartman was more than just their childhood bully. He was a destructive force of nature. Everywhere he went his victims were left to pick up the pieces of their lives. There was a reason he was ousted from their friend group, and it wasn’t just the transphobia. He was cruel and unyielding, constantly laughing at (and being the cause of) the misfortune of others. It wasn’t a trait he grew out of. He could easily imagine Cartman trying to meddle. 

“So you broke up with her.” Stan finished the story.

“I know it seems like an over reaction,” Kyle continued, already attempting to justify his actions. “but Cartman is like mold. Once he makes an appearance, he’s already too deeply ingrained to remove. And, somehow, it seemed like retaliation. Like she was so hurt by my coming out to her that she felt the need to get back at me? The timing aligned far too closely for it to be a coincidence.”

“Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.” He suggested gently.

“There’s no misunderstanding that would explain why she thought that was even remotely okay. Not when she knew that I didn’t want to see him again.”

“Did he say anything?”

Kyle shook his head. “Cartman just watched, but you know him. He loves reveling in the suffering of others. He didn’t have to say anything.”

“What happened next?”

“I-” Kyle began, his voice dropping lower. “I went and packed a bag. I left that night. She tried to talk to me about it later, but there’s no coming back from a betrayal like that.”

Stan found himself frowning. He couldn’t really agree with Kyle’s actions. It seemed like overkill to end a relationship over Heidi talking to another man. To be fair, it was clear the problem was who that man turned out to be rather than some guy off the street. Stan never hated Cartman to the degree his friends did. They didn’t like each other, but he had to admit he got shit on the least. He knew that Kyle viscerally hated Eric Cartman- a feeling that was well deserved after the hell the Broflovskis went through at his hands. Could Stan forgive his partner if they invited his worst enemy into his home? He didn’t think he could.

Stan suddenly noticed the redness in Kyle’s cheeks. “This entire situation is embarrassing. I don’t like remembering it.”

“Are you embarrassed by your actions?” It was a feeling Stan was intimately familiar with.

“Partially. I won’t lie, I freaked the fuck out.” He answered. “But mostly I’m embarrassed that Cartman got the jump on me again. It’s like his life is empty if I’m not there for him to torture.”

Stan’s skepticism came in swinging. “Do you really think he would fly to New Jersey years after you last saw each other just to ruin your happiness?”

The look Kyle gave him withered his skepticism away. “Yes.”

Silence fell over them. Stan couldn’t refute that kind of certainty. Outside the glass, birds were singing their spring mating calls. Things seemed so much simpler in the quiet. Despite the emotional highs and lows of the last few hours, Stan felt at peace then. Being near Kyle filled his chest with a resounding tranquility that he’d forgotten all about. The anger-grief-shame cycle was gone (at least for the moment) and its place was room for possibilities. 

Before he could convince himself out of it, he reached for Kyle’s hand. Their fingers wove together like it was the easiest thing in the world. Stan knew well enough that the actions were easy and the emotions were harder. In the past, he’d put himself in situations where the emotions stopped him from taking certain actions. For instance, walking away from Scott Malkinson was easier than letting him know he wasn’t interested. This seemed to be his default setting. For all his wanting of companionship, he could never convince himself to take up anyone’s offer. Saying no was easier than introducing a new adult into Lucy’s life. It was easier not to try.

But for Kyle- and the way his eyes crinkle up in the corners when he smiles, and his long eyelashes, and the way he relaxes when Stan plays with his hair- he wanted to try. He wanted to be the kind of man who put effort in if it meant Kyle stayed with him. But Kyle won’t stay. He had a life in Jersey- with roommates, apparently- and Stan wasn’t willing to ask him to change his plans. It was easier not to.

Man, they had a lot to never ever talk about.

Kyle stared down at their embraced hands like it was the most magical thing on the planet. Their kiss earlier must have been earth shattering if he felt that way about hand holding. Shit, it probably was if his little breakdown was anything to go by.

“What are you thinking about now?” Stan asked into the quiet.

“Nothing, really. I’m trying to forget all that again.” Kyle answered. “Has it been fifteen minutes yet?"

“Why, you got a hot date you gotta get ready for?” Stan teased him with a smirk.

“Not for a couple more days.” He flirted right back like they did it all the time. “The Best Man at my sister’s wedding. Kinda had a crush on him for a while.”

Something in Stan’s chest burned. A weight had been lifted off Kyle’s shoulders now that they were on the same page. He was becoming more like his normal self. He was regaining his confidence and charisma. Jersey Kyle was a man of a bygone era. California Kyle never existed. This was Colorado Kyle, a man still in bloom and growing stronger with every step. Not only did Stan love to see it, he craved it in a way he hadn’t experienced before. He’s definitely wanted other men, but not like this. Not like how Kyle had fire running through his veins.

“Kyle, please, I have condoms.” Stan found himself begging, his mouth suddenly parched.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Stan, why do you think we’re here? Condoms or not, you’re supposed to get tested with every new partner.”

“You are?” 

“You’re unbelievable.” He scoffed.  “You’re just gonna have to be patient.”

“You’re killing me, dude.” Stan groaned. “We’ve got a whole day free. We could do anything .”

“Well, what’s the unsexiest thing you can imagine?”

“My daughter, hands down.” He replied instantly.

Kyle hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, I barely got to meet her the other night, and you’ve barely seen her since. I think it would be nice to spend some time with Lucy. Especially if it makes you less feral.”

“Uh, yeah.” Stan tried to switch gears into a less horny state. “She likes picnics. We used to have a lot of them when we lived in Denver. It was a fun way to hide how broke we were from her.”

“Oh.” He suddenly looked downtrodden. “That’s depressing.”

“Nah, they’re fun.” Stan insisted with a grin. “You’ll see.”

There was something mind numbingly domestic about going to the grocery store with Kyle. Being there was not usually Stan’s idea of a good time- primarily because he usually goes on the weekends like everyone else in town- but being there with his friend made it comforting. It felt nice to lean over the cart in the middle of the produce section while Kyle “tested” some of the grapes.

“Mmm.” Kyle pointed out a bag, still chewing. “That’s a good batch. Very firm.”

“Dude, that’s the third grape you’ve stolen.” Stan pointed out. Not that he was complaining. He actually found it kind of endearing. Theft aside, Kyle was really taking charge of this shopping trip. So far, he has chosen healthy (or at least semi-healthy) options. Stan’s only job has been to push the cart. It gave him a nice break from making decisions. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed a break from choosing things.

Kyle rolled his eyes and grabbed the bag he liked. “You can thank me when your grapes aren’t mushy and gross. I’m only looking out for you.”

Stan rested his chin on his hand, an embarrassingly goofy smile on his face. He didn’t care who saw it. “Whatever you say.”

“What kind of apples does Luce like?” Kyle asked, grabbing a new produce bag. 

“Luce? ” He cocked his head in amusement. “You’ve got a nickname for her now?”

Kyle paused. “Doesn’t anyone call her that?”

“Most people pronounce the ‘y’.” He answered. “ She’ll only eat the green, tart ones like a fucking weirdo.”

Kyle grinned as he inspected the selection available. “I knew I liked her.”

“Ugh.” Stan wrinkled his nose. “Apples are supposed to be sweet. It’s like, biologically imperative that fruit is sweet so animals are tempted to eat them and shit the seeds around.”

Kyle’s laughter was music to his ears. A nearby mom with a baby in her cart gave them a dirty look, which only made him laugh harder. Stan couldn’t believe how badly he wanted to close the gap between them and kiss Kyle until he was breathless. He hoped there would be time for that later. Stan had just started reminiscing about their time in the balloon when something set him off-kilter. He looked up to see another cart had rammed into his and the contents of said cart: a twenty-four pack of beer and a couple bags of potato chips. He didn’t have to look any further to know what asshole just crashed into him. Stan could smell him from where he stood, like barley and sweat.

“Stanley.” Randy slurred his name, completely forgoing the ‘l’. No surprise there. He hadn’t enunciated properly in years. 

Stan took a moment to consider how to respond. He considered keeping his eyes down and slowly backing away. However, that would be cowardly, and he refused to be scared of a fifty-year-old alcoholic. He drew himself up and looked his father dead in the eyes.

It was clear that Randy wasn’t doing too well. He appeared greasy and disheveled. Some of the buttons of his shirt were skipped or missing, showing off bits of his chest. He stared at Stan with ire. Despite the fact that Randy hadn’t been in Stan’s life in over a decade at that point, his body still remembered the reasons why. Anxiety rushed through him. He instantly felt his heart pounding. He straightened his back out. His hands came to grip the handlebar far too tightly. He was prepared to fight if needed.

“I thought you were banned from this store.” Stan responded coldly.

“I go where I please.” Randy enlightened him, then pointed over to Kyle with his chin. “Who’s your friend ?”

Randy sneered on the word ‘friend’ like he was insinuating Stan was fucking every man in a six foot radius. He was, but that wasn’t his business. He never came out to his dad. Randy never had the privilege of knowing, but he always suspected. He stopped denying it after he moved back home. Apparently, that was all the confirmation Randy needed.

Stan turned to look back at Kyle. Their eyes met. He tried to mentally warn him not to engage. Kyle looked between the two of them and continued picking out apples. “Stan, who’s this guy?”

“Uh, I’m his father?” He said it like Kyle was stupid. “What, are you blind? We look like twins.”

Nausea caught Stan by surprise. He knew that he looked like all the men in his family, but he hated being told that he looked like his dad. Even the fake mustache he wore yesterday breached his comfort level, regardless of how much Kyle liked it.

“I didn’t know you had a father.” Kyle told Stan, completely ignoring him. 

“Really? Does the name ‘Dr. Randy Marsh’ ring any bells?” 

Kyle tilted his head for effect. “I’m confused. Who’s Randy?”

Stan had to fight back a smile. He was so grateful that he understood the assignment. Kyle finished picking out apples, completely unbothered. He even remembered to grab a few red ones as well because they were Stan’s favorite. It warmed his heart to see even if his dad’s presence was stressing him out.

“Is that everything?” Kyle brought them to the cart, only focusing on Stan. 

That wasn’t everything on their list. He was offering him an out, missing items be damned. They could go to another store if they needed to. It was becoming harder to breathe. Stan wasn’t sure if it was Randy’s toxicity or his scent. Either way, he needed fresh air. He needed to leave. “Yeah, I think so.”

It seemed that it took Randy a few moments to recognize Kyle. His eyes squinted like he was trying to focus. “I remember you.”

Kyle really looked back at him for the first time, his face schooled into neutrality. “I don’t remember you.”

“Liar.” Randy wore a cruel grin, revealing wide gaps in his dentition. “You’re that Broflovski kid. You used to come around sniffing after my son.” He chuckled. “I guess now I know why.”

“You don’t know shit.” Kyle’s demeanor dropped, rage threatening to spill over. God, that passion was going to get them into trouble some day. “I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself before you lose more teeth.”

“Kyle, let’s go.” Stan whispered at him, desperate to escape this trap.

Randy’s eyes lit up in confirmation. They were found out. “So much fire. I remember your mom was like that, always fighting people, always had to be correct. She was a total bitch about everything. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise with her around.”

Stan knew exactly what he was doing. As a narcissist, he always aimed to create discord- especially if it made him look good. Stan knew how to avoid the triggers, but Kyle didn’t. If anything, he was more emotionally frazzled that day than most. Before Stan could reel him back in, he was already stomping towards Randy. Kyle’s fist was colliding into his already broken mouth before any of them could blink. He keeled over and fell onto the hard linoleum, moaning in pain.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kyle, what the fuck?”

“I told you to remind me.” He said. 

“I was hoping you’d forget about that!” 

“I didn’t. Oh!” Kyle perked up as if he just remembered something. He reeled back and kicked Randy while he was down, his loafers digging painfully into his side. “That’s for Kenny, you piece of shit.”

Stan suppressed another smile as his father spewed out weak threats. He knew that the cops would likely be there soon to trespass Randy and question Kyle- if not outwardly arrest him. They did need to leave, but he let himself bask in the moment a bit. Once they were all checked out and the groceries were piled up in the back seat, they climbed into Stan’s old truck. Whatever excitement Stan felt in that moment waned into the typical melancholy he always felt after an encounter with Randy. Kyle waited patiently in the passenger’s side as Stan folded down his sunshade and inspected himself in the tiny mirror.

“Are you mad that I hit him?” Kyle asked.

“Nah.” Stan answered, still peering into the mirror. He looked so tired. He was tired. “He was purposefully baiting you. You don’t know how to ignore the hooks.”

“You don’t look like him.” He responded after a moment. His bright green eyes bore deeply into him. “He was one-thousand-percent bullshitting you when he said you looked like twins.”

Stan levied a sigh. “I know, but it’s like I’m peering into the future whenever I see him. That’s me in another thirty years.”

Kyle snorted. “Yeah right. Randy Marsh is a fucking goblin at this point. All he’s doing is digging his own grave. That’s not your future, Stan. Aside from the fact that you don’t drink, you have so much more going for you than he does. He wants you to think that what he’s become is inevitable so he feels better about letting himself get into that state. It’s not a reflection on you.”

Stan flipped up the shade with more attitude than necessary. “But it is. Everytime he goes out in public, his actions reflect on me and my daughter. Every drunken charade makes its way back to me and then I have to shoulder the burden of proving I’m not a loser like him. Lucy wonders why she’s not allowed to see her grandpa anymore. I’ve tried explaining, but I didn’t understand it when I was her age, either. All she knows is that she loves him.”

“He didn’t even ask about her, dude.” Kyle said gently. They were holding hands again. “He clearly only came over to antagonize us. He hates that you’re doing better than him. It doesn’t seem like he misses her at all.”

Stan stared down at their hands. It was so simple it almost hurt. It reminded him that a substantial part of him was still pissed at Kyle for hiding his feelings. Or, perhaps, for depriving Stan of the possibility. Their shopping trip was so nice up until the very end. They could have been doing stupid domestic shit like that for years if it weren’t for Kyle lying. Stan wanted Kyle in his life- then and now- but his self destruction prevented it. How could someone be so smart and so stupid at the same time?

“You called me an idiot earlier.” Stan muttered, remembering their time in the balloon.

“I did? When?”

“I think your exact words were ‘ I was in love with you, you absolute idiot’ .” 

Kyle’s face turned as red as the apples he chose for him. “Well, uh, shit. Sorry, I was kind of just swept up in the emotions, I guess. I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’re really smart.”

“You didn’t think I was smart enough to handle the truth?” Stan felt his ire turning to its next target. He was usually fairly level headed, but now he wanted to let some of his frustration out.

“What? No! I was trying to keep things off your plate.” He insisted, surprised by the accusation. “You had a lot going on. I mean, you were dating someone for most of high school, anyways.”

“You made a huge decision on my behalf.” Stan spoke slowly as if he needed to rationalize what he was saying. “You killed whatever chance we had before I even knew about it.”

Kyle didn’t respond, so he continued. “My entire adult life, I’ve never had any agency. I don’t have the ability to make real decisions for myself. I didn’t get to go to school, I didn’t get to choose my own career, I barely even got to decide where I live because the rental options in this town are garbage. The only thing I chose for myself was the divorce. And now you’re here, telling me that you loved me in the past and yet again I don’t get to make a decision about that because you did it for me.” 

He frowned as if deep in thought. “Okay, fine. You’re right, I did make that decision for you. I honestly thought you’d be happier not knowing. I can’t stress enough how I thought you were straight. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by admitting it. I’m sorry.”

“But you ruined our friendship by not admitting it.” 

Kyle looked down at their fingers, still entwined. “It doesn’t look ruined to me.”

Stan also looked down. He didn’t want to let go, no matter how mad he was. Fuck, Kyle leaving him to go back home was going to disembowel him. How was he supposed to survive him leaving again when he couldn’t even bring himself to let go of his hand?

“I don’t care where we go from here.” Stan responded in a harsh tone. “I don’t care if we become best friends again or if you fuck off back to Jersey for eternity. This will never happen again. Any decisions that affect the both of us get made by both of us. You don’t get to hide shit from me anymore.”

“Okay, that’s fair.” Kyle said, taking all of this in stride. He had a weird, dopey look on his face. “I’ll do better.”

Stan let out a breath of relief. He decided to let go of his anger for now. “That’s all I want.”

“I hadn’t realized how much all of this affected you.” Kyle told him. “The whole time I was gone I had convinced myself that I was the one who was hurt and that you were happy living your life. It hadn’t occurred to me until I came back how badly I fumbled everything.” 

“Yeah, I’m feeling pretty fumbled right now.” He muttered. “All of my emotions about you are mushed together. Like, I want to fight you in this parking lot but I also want to- well, you know that part already.”

The tips of Kyle’s ears burned bright red. “I think all we can do for now is keep talking it out.”

“I think we can do a little more than that.” Stan answered slyly. He reached over to touch Kyle’s face with his free hand.

Kyle leaned into the touch. It was so natural, so tender, like they’ve been exchanging casual romantic contact for eons. Whatever this new sensation was between them felt like it was supposed to be there. Kyle was wrong earlier. He was never destined to be with Heidi. Kyle was destined to be with him. They grew closer, their lips nearly touching, Kyle’s beard lightly brushing against his skin, Stan’s heart hammering in his chest–.

A knock on the driver side window caused them both to jump. Stan twisted to find Officer Clyde Donovan waving at them. He rolled down the window with a trembling hand.

“Hey, Stan.” Clyde greeted plainly. “Your dad’s being taken in for trespassing. Wanted to let you know just in case you wanted to post bail.”

“Clyde, your timing is shit.” Stan’s face was on fire. 

He grinned manically. The fucker knew exactly what he was doing. “Damn, that’s too bad. Is that Kyle behind you?”

“I plead the fifth.” He spat.

“Called it.” Clyde’s smile was plastered permanently on his face. He looked so pleased with himself. “I knew you two would end up together. Bebe texted me earlier and I had to see it for myself.”

“You saw, and now you can leave.” Stan narrowed his eyes. “I’m not posting his bail again.”

“I heard that there was some sort of altercation inside.” Clyde added, entirely circumventing his words. He leaned past Stan to get a better look at his companion.

“I plead the fifth.” Kyle’s voice called out.

“That’s fine.” Clyde shrugged. He appeared satisfied by whatever he saw. “I didn’t see anything. You gentlemen get home safe. See you Saturday.”

“See ya.” Stan grumbled and rolled the window up.

Kyle looked mildly panicked. “What did he mean ‘he called it’?”

“I don’t know, man.” Stan lied. “People are just curious why we’re hanging out together, that’s all. You know how gossipy these bitches are. Don’t worry about it.”

He truly meant that last part. Kyle needed to be worrying about patching up their relationship rather than worrying about what other people were thinking.

He nodded rapidly. “Can we leave now?”

Stan obliged him.

Stan’s apartment wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t a ‘luxury’ unit by any means. In fact, it was a little shitty. The carpeting was old and needed to be ripped up. The closet door in Lucy’s room was perpetually broken and off the rails no matter how many times he fixed it. Every wall had evidence of the Landlord Special somewhere. The bathroom, of course, was extremely cramped. At the same time, it was the nicest place he’d ever lived outside of his mom’s house. There was no water damage anywhere. They didn’t have roaches for once. There weren’t any weird smells. Everything worked the way it should, even if the water heater took forever. Stan was proud of his little two bed. It was his, even if it wasn’t fancy.

Kyle’s eyes traced over every surface. Stan expected some sort of disconcerting comment. Living in a far more affluent area, he was probably used to more expensive furnishings. Stan was suddenly a little self conscious about his furniture, all hobbled together from hand-me-downs and Goodwills. Yet, as Kyle placed his bags on the counter, all he said was “it smells nice in here”.

“Thanks. Air freshener in the filter. Works like a charm.”

“It’s cozy. I like it.” Kyle smiled at him.

God, what Stan wouldn’t do to keep Kyle smiling like that. Everything felt so right in the world at that moment. Everything except the fact that he had to piss like crazy. He excused himself. When he returned from the bathroom, he found Kyle curled up on his Goodwill couch out like a light. He shouldn’t have been surprised. He had said earlier that his siblings kept him up all night, and he had been yawning on the way back from the store. Stan considered waking him, but decided Kyle looked too peaceful to interrupt. 

Once all the food was ready, he joined Kyle on the couch. They still had a few hours to kill before they were supposed to meet up with Lucy, Wendy, and Tolkien. Stan had hoped they could fill that time with their tongues down each other’s throats. Clearly that wasn’t going to happen with the way Kyle was curled up across from him, his shoes haphazardly kicked onto the floor, and snoring softly. Something softened in Stan’s chest, making him feel all gooey and wistful. He wanted nothing more than to press kisses into his hairline and down his neck. The desire was nearly overwhelming. Instead, he just watched Kyle’s chest rise and fall. 

He fished his phone out of his pocket once he decided that watching someone sleep was creepy. He needed to tell someone about all these new revelations he was experiencing. Even though he was surrounded by people who loved and cared about him, the only person he really wanted to talk to was his brother. Obviously Kenny wouldn’t be able to respond considering how he was dead- and boy did Stan desperately want to forget just to get that image out of his head. Marj said it just took ‘a moment of distraction’ but there were plenty of times that day where Stan and Kyle were extremely distracted and nothing had changed. Maybe it was more complex than making out with someone thousands of feet in the air.

He opened up the text app and began typing.

Ken

I don’t know if texting you is breaking the rules or not.

Marj says that everything relating to each death disappears once you return.

  I hope that’s not the case with our texts because I need to tell you this

Kyle confessed. He loves me

You probably already knew that even though he never told you. Is knowing 

other people’s secrets a part of this curse thing or is it just the multiple lives

giving you wisdom beyond your years?

Or maybe you just have eyes because people keep saying they called it

Anyways, I’m very confused. Should I be grossed out by this? I think that

I should be but I’m really not 

He’s really hot so I guess in my brain that gives him a pass?

I mean just look at him

Stan quickly snapped a picture of Kyle, still sound asleep next to him, and sent it to Kenny’s phone.

He’s so handsome. I can’t begin to describe the way he makes me feel.

He makes my heart skip fucking beats dude

It’s weird how easily I’ve accepted all this. Kyle having feelings for

me was unexpected, but it’s feeling less surprising as time goes on. It’s

just a fact of life now

We’ve been hanging out all day. I can’t say it’s like old times because it isn’t.

There’s more here. There’s a *something* hanging between us that wasn’t there

before. I really like it. I really like him and I’ve missed him so bad

I don’t want him to leave. Not in like a kidnap sort of way I just don’t

want us to be apart again. He’s getting on that flight no matter what so maybe

 asking him to stay is a waste of time. But the idea of him staying here with me

I don’t think anything would make me happier

Is it selfish to ask? You always had a better sense of that sort of thing

Is my happiness important enough for him to drop everything and move back?

What if he’s leaving something equally important behind?

And is it appropriate to introduce a new parental figure into Lucy’s life?

 Could Kyle even provide the kind of dedication needed to be an extra parent?

There’s a reason I've been single this whole time. I know you already know

I really want to see where this goes. It might be nowhere. There’s a high chance

that it’s nowhere, knowing me. Lots of things end up going nowhere for me

I wish you were here. You always know how to cut out the bullshit in my logic.

When you come back I’ll have to tell you all about how Kyle, Ike and me pretended to be FBI agents in

order to have the police reopen their investigation. They said it was an accidental shooting

I guess you wouldn’t know either way. You didn’t see it coming

I don’t want to forget again. I want to be one of the people who remembers. 

It’s not fair for Marj to have to carry this alone. I want to help

I hope I’ve said that before today.

Kyle was beginning to stir, stretching out his limbs and letting out a yawn. It reminded Stan of their sleepovers when they were little. He always woke up loudly, taking up more than his half of the mattress and blanket. It used to annoy him but now he wanted to see it happen in his king sized bed. They would have so much room for activities there.

He couldn’t believe how many wants he developed in the last couple of days. He didn't have those before. It was simpler to deny himself before Kyle waltzed back into his life. 

“Stan?” Kyle croaked, his voice dry from sleep. He gazed at him with bleary, half lidded eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Stan greeted him softly. His heart fluttered in his chest.

Kyle sat up and looked around. “Wait, did you already do everything?”

“Yeah.” 

“I was gonna help.” He rubbed his eyes. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You clearly needed the sleep.” Some of Kyle’s curls broke loose from his bun while he was out. Stan tucked them behind his ear. “It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” He didn’t put up much of a fight, opting to lean his head on Stan’s shoulder. “I’m still tired. Your couch sucks.”

“My bed is way more comfortable.”

Kyle shot him a suspicious, yet exhausted look.

Stan grinned. “Listen, you’ve made it very clear you don’t want to do anything until we have the results. I can respect that. You need more sleep so come to bed with me. It’ll be like old times.”

“Oh, so you’re gonna hog all the sheets?” He smiled against his shoulder.

“You’re the fucking blanket hog, not me.” Stan reminded him. He couldn’t help leaning down to press a kiss onto his forehead. He’d never kissed another man’s forehead before now. Shit, it’s only been a couple of hours and they were already hopelessly tangled together. He was so fucked.

“Neither of us will get any sleep if we go in there.” There was something cool in Kyle’s tone that ran a shiver down Stan’s spine. 

His fingers found Kyle’s hair again. Stan was suddenly very warm and Kyle was very close. He could see the golden flecks in his eyes. “We could not sleep in every room in this apartment if you wanted.”

Despite that same blush returning to his cheeks, Kyle was still bold enough to lean forward first. Their lips met with less force than the other times, yet that spark of desire lit all the same. That magnetic pull drew Stan closer, made him tug at Kyle’s curls just a little harder and smile at the moan he let out. Kissing him -and wanting to kiss him again- was nearly all Stan could think about since last night. Now that he finally experienced it, he felt like the last several hours had been entirely without oxygen. Stan couldn’t breathe until this exact moment. How had he gone this long without it? How could he ever go without it again?

In the end, they never even got off the couch.

Stan and Kyle arrived a few minutes later than expected. Stan inspected himself before hopping out the truck, ensuring the buttons to his shirt were properly refastened. Next to him, Kyle pulled his hair back with an elastic. Stan had to stave off another wave of pure want that washed over him- it had been him who set Kyle’s hair free in the first place. He was starting to dislike how much Kyle tried to hide it.

Stan immediately spotted Lucy, Wendy, and Tolkein waiting for them. They had brought a blanket with them, its pattern cast long over the grass. Lucy’s head whipped over to them at the sound of the doors slamming close. Her hair was parted into two ponytails, both of which flew behind her as she ran for him.  He couldn’t keep the grin off his face. He missed her dearly even amongst the insanity of the past few days.

“Daddy!” She cried as she hurdled into him. 

Stan reached down to lift her up. She was nearly getting too old to be carried, but Stan would gladly throw out his back if it meant he could cling onto her childhood for a little longer. “Hey there, baby girl. You been having fun with Grandma and Grandpa?”

Lucy frowned. “No, they’re boring. Why does Grandma keep her couches wrapped in plastic anyways?”

Kyle laughed at that. He was carrying the picnic basket for them. “That definitely sounds like the Testaburgers,”

Lucy noticed Kyle and her face split into a grin. “I didn’t know you and Uncle Kyle were friends again.” 

“How do you know we weren’t friends?” Stan asked her, but he already knew the answer. Wendy undoubtedly filled her in with a kid-friendly version of events.

Lucy slapped her hand over her mouth, suddenly appearing guilty. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. Don’t tell Mommy.”

Stan just chuckled. Beyond, he spotted Wendy and Tolkien approaching them with smiles on their faces. He was instantly suspicious of their intentions. They were both dressed nicely, she in a flowing floral sundress and he in a casual suit. They were both excessive that way.

“Stan, Kyle, it’s wonderful to see you both.” Wendy greeted and pulled Kyle into a hug. Much like the night prior, he seemed uncomfortable being touched. Stan had to suppress a smirk. That wasn’t true for him.  

They had lunch on the blanket. Lucy was delighted by the inclusion of green apples. Tolkien and Wendy asked polite questions about Kyle, filling in the gaps in their knowledge. Kyle was very forthcoming with information, surprisingly. Stan loved watching Kyle interact with his friends. He tried keeping his eye on his daughter, but said eyes always ended up drifting. Eventually Lucy grew bored of the adult talk and wanted to play. She dragged Kyle away to push her on the swing. He wondered if Wendy encouraged her to do that. As soon as they were far enough away, Wendy and Tolkien rounded on Stan. For a long moment, no one said anything. However, the looks on their faces said everything. They were clearly amused by the whole situation.

Stan huffed a sigh. “Jesus Christ, say what you gotta. You’re both clearly dying to.”

With that, Wendy broke out into cackles. “Holy shit, you’ve got it bad!”

Tolkien shook his head. “Two days ago I swear you wanted to break his nose and now you’ve got stars in your eyes.”

Stan groaned. “I don’t pay you for therapy.”

“I wouldn’t take you on as a patient.” He countered. “Doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it.”

“Please let’s talk about it.” Wendy begged, hands in prayer. “I crave the drama.”

“At least you’re honest.” Stan muttered. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“What happened?” They asked in unison.

“Fine.” He caved, his arms crossed. “I took him onto a hot air balloon- don’t ask, long story- he admitted he had a crush on me and we ended up making out. Turns out, we’re both into men and neither of us knew it. It’s been a weird day.”

“Oh my god.” Wendy muttered. “A hot air balloon?”

“At sunrise.” Stan added.

“That might be the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.” Wendy confirmed. “And I’ve been to actual gay weddings.”

“I think it’s sweet.” Tolkien said. “Who knew Stan was so romantic?”

Lucy squealed behind them. They all turned to find her high in the sky as she swung, Kyle pushing her with intensity. He smiled and waved at them once he realized he was being watched. It made Stan’s heart leap in his chest. He turned back to the others with his cheeks burning.

“You’ve got feelings for him, don’t you?” Wendy asked conspiratorially. 

Stan buried his face into his hands. “Am I that obvious?”

“Dude, you’ve always had a thing for Kyle.” Tolkien pointed out. “Ever since we were kids.”

He lifted his head to give Tolkien a weird, audacious look. “Excuse me?”

Tolkien rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You can’t sit here and tell me that you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stan deadpanned despite his heart beginning to pound.

“Tolkien, cut him a break.” Wendy spoke with a sense of pity. “He doesn’t really think about these things.”

“No, spell it out for me.” He challenged them, his brows furrowing. 

The couple paused and looked at each other.

“We insinuated he was stupid.” Tolkien said to Wendy.

“We pissed him off.” Wendy replied.

God, they truly were perfect for each other. One was a criminal defense attorney, the other a clinical psychologist. Both knew how to slice into him with surgical precision. 

“Can we start over?” Wendy asked Stan, her nose wrinkling.

Stan sighed. He still thought it was cute when she did that. “Fine.”

“Listen,” Tolkien began. “You and Kyle have always been really close. I think that maybe the two of you sniffed each other out when you were kids. I don’t know. All I can tell you is that, watching from the sidelines, it was pretty clear to everyone else that you two were queer.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to catch on to that.” Stan said, recalling his previous conversations.

“Remember when we played the Stick of Truth?”

“Yeah.” He replied hesitantly. He didn’t like the cold pit that was beginning to grow in his stomach.

“You could have chosen to be anyone, but you chose to be Kyle’s bodyguard.” Tolkien continued. “You wanted to be by his side so badly that you literally became his right hand man. And later, when we got into high school, the two of you would arrange your schedules so that you had all your classes together.”

“So?” Stan shrugged. “He was my friend.”

“The two of you have always been more than friends is my point.” He stressed further. “Do you really think you’ve only been gay for the last four years?”

Tolkien was hitting on things that Stan didn’t like to think about. He knew from a logical standpoint that he’s been gay his whole life, but he didn’t feel that way. He really was into Wendy when they were together, but he’d never felt that way about another woman. The way he felt about Wendy, even during their happiest moments, didn’t hold a fucking candle to how he felt about Kyle right then. The problem was that thinking about himself as a lifelong gay man made him spiral. It made him think of the years of his life he wasted, even before he was married. If he was serious when he told himself that he and Kyle belonged together, that meant he had to admit to himself that they should have gotten together years and years ago. Something about that acknowledgement made him want to slam his head against a wall. 

“You’re right.” Stan swallowed down a lump in his throat. “I know you’re right, but I don’t like to think about it.”

“We just want you to be happy, Stan.” Wendy said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder. “We don’t care who you end up with as long as–.”

“End up with? ” Stan did a double take. “That’s a bold assumption.”

Wendy’s eyes widened and she retracted her arm. “Oh my god. You two haven’t talked about it, have you?”

“There’s nothing to discuss.” He replied. “He’s got his career, I’m doing stuff.”

“Oh my god I could fucking strangle you!” She hissed at him. “Why do you do this kinda shit?”

“What?” Stan asked in annoyance, prepared for a lecture.

“Why do you constantly deny yourself?” Wendy asked him. “You clearly want to be with him but you’ve already told yourself no. Have you even asked him what he wants?”

“No, and I’m not going to.”

“Jesus, you’re stubborn.” Tolkien rubbed his forehead. 

“Why would I ask him to stay with me?” Stan tried to rationalize. “He’s got a whole life back East.”

“He loves you, Stan.” Wendy breathed deep like she was trying to calm herself down. “You should tell him you want him around.”

“There’s no point.” He insisted. “It’s simpler this way. Things don’t have to get messy.”

“Messy?” Her voice was nearly shrill. 

“Maybe you should walk us through your logic.” Tolkien commented, although he still seemed amused.

“Please.” She added as she rubbed her temples. “I can’t wrap my mind around this.”

Stan heaved a sigh. “This really isn’t your business.”

“It’s our business because we’re your friends.” Wendy said in an offended tone. “We love and care about you, asshole.”

“You know what, you’re right.” He said, dusting off his hands. “I don’t think about these kinds of things. There must be a giant crater in my brain where I’m supposed to process love.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What are you so afraid of, Stan?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.” He lied.

“Clearly you are, because this is Olympic level avoidance. You’re usually extremely straightforward.”

“It’s obvious what the problem is.” Tolkien spoke up. “He’s afraid he’s not good enough.”

Stan was instantly in a cold sweat. “That’s not true. I’m a fucking catch.”

Wendy tapped her chin in thought. “A catch that won’t let himself be caught. How many men have asked you out? It has to be dozens at this point, but you’ve rejected them all.”

“I’m not willing to introduce Lucy to any men.” He explained. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I think your exact words were ‘just any man’, not ‘any men’.” She continued, looking past him. “And she’s already been introduced.”

Stan turned again. Lucy and Kyle were sitting in the grass a dozen yards away or so. It appeared she was explaining to him the plot of one of her books, acting out some of the action scenes. Kyle was watching with rapt attention. 

“I can’t imagine a better man.” Tolkien said. “An engineer, undoubtedly makes six figures, went to a prestigious school, comes from a nice Jewish family-.”

“He doesn’t need to provide a resume, dude.” 

“He might not, but it’s important to you because you don’t think you bring anything to the table.” He continued. “You just work on cars. It’s not even your shop. Why would he want you, right?”

Stan couldn't stop the angry flush from appearing on his face just as much as he couldn’t come up with a retort. He didn’t bring anything to the table because he wasn’t the same caliber of man that Kyle was. Anyone could see that.

“You don’t realize how lucky you are. He’s in love with you, Stan. You don’t have to bring anything because this isn’t a negotiation. You could shovel shit for a living and he would still want to be by your side.”

Stan’s heart fluttered at the very idea. “God damn it.” He muttered. “Son of a bitch.”

“I think you might have hit the nail on the head, sweetie.” Wendy commented.

“Wasn’t hard.” Tolkien responded. “He’s transparent as glass.”

“I can’t ask him.” He stared at the gingham pattern of the blanket. That, at least, he could be honest to. “If he leaves again- if he says no- I think it’ll break me. I honestly think I will become less of a person.”

“So you’d rather not take the risk?” Wendy asked incredulously before turning to Tolkien. “Is there such a thing as toxic self-preservation?”

Tolkien smirked. “That’s not exactly in the DSM-5, babe.”

Stan groaned again. “This is why I don’t talk to you two about anything. You always try to dissect me.”

“It’s all out of love, dude.” Tolkien assured him.

“Speaking of,” Wendy said. “Do you love Kyle back?”

Stan scoffed. “It’s been like two seconds.”

“If you insist.” Her smile told him she didn’t believe him.

Yards away, Stan could hear the sound of a phone ringing and, after a moment, Kyle saying hello to whoever was on the line. His attention was drawn to Kyle like a magnet. He was smiling one moment and frowning the next. 

“Don’t tell me not to panic. You know I’ll panic anyways.”

Kyle listened as he took Lucy’s hand and led her back to the group. He appeared more grim with each step. Lucy broke away and ran the rest of the way back. He stayed in the field. Stan felt the cold fingers of anxiety trace down his spine. Something was wrong.

“Daddy, did you see how high I went?” Lucy asked as she approached her parents. 

“I did, baby girl. Did you have fun?” Stan asked with his attention split. 

Lucy nodded vigorously. “Uncle Kyle is a good swing pusher.”

“You’ve got grass stains on your dress, sweetie.” Wendy told her gently.

Stan let his full attention wander as Wendy handled that mess. Kyle’s body language was worrying. His forehead was furrowed, his hand covering his mouth as he just listened. Suddenly he turned. Their eyes met and Stan could feel anger and fear rippling off him even from that distance. Stan got up without saying anything and approached. As he grew closer, he could hear more of the conversation.

“I can’t believe you would leave her like that.”

“Is everything okay?” Stan asked. He reached out to Kyle’s hand on instinct.

“Alright, bye.” Kyle said into the phone with irritation and hung up.

“What happened?” Stan asked again.

“Ike abandoned his post.” Kyle told him. “He got her high and left her at home by herself.”

“What the fuck? Why would he do that?”

“A hook up, apparently.” Kyle grimaced, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “That’s not all. He saw Heidi and Cartman in town.”

Stan narrowed his eyes. “Why are they here?”

“They didn’t exactly have a polite conversation, Stan.” Kyle told him. His chest began to heave with anxiety. “Ike said he looked furious. I think I need to go. Marj shouldn’t be alone.”

“We can go if you want.” Stan squeezed his hand in an attempt to be comforting.

“You want to come with me?” Kyle seemed confused by the proposition. “But Lucy-?”

“She’s staying with Wendy until after the wedding.” He informed him. “This was all worked out weeks ago. We can leave.”

Kyle nodded and let out a breath. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. It’s probably just a coincidence.” Stan led him back to the group. Kyle’s hand was becoming clammy. “Let’s say goodbye to everyone.”

Tolkien and Wendy must have noticed something was up, because they both gave Stan wary looks as he approached. Neither of them said anything as he hugged Lucy goodbye, reassuring her that he would see her tomorrow as well. 

“Something’s wrong.” Wendy whispered in Stan’s ear as he helped clean up. 

Stan’s eyes wandered to Kyle, who was pacing back and forth in the grass. “He’s worried about Marj. You know how he is when it comes to her.”

“I know he’s usually overprotective-.” 

“He has to be.” Stan cut her off. “We all are in some capacity.”

“My point is that this isn’t his normal behavior.” Wendy argued.

“He’s been gone for eight years. None of us know what his ‘normal behavior’ is anymore.” He argued back, gathering up his picnic basket. “Wends, I’m trying to keep him calm. He’s been a bundle of nerves since he got here. There’s nothing wrong, he’s just anxious. Please stop pushing the issue.”

Wendy pressed her lips together in dissatisfaction. “Fine, I’ll keep my nose out of it.”

“Thank you.” Stan let out a sigh. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Probably not.” She remarked, a small smile on her face. “We’ve got wedding party duties, remember?” 

So she forgot as well. Why couldn’t he?

The image of Kenny’s obliterated face filled his vision. He blinked his eyes clear. “Right.”

Stan and Kyle walked back to the truck. Once they entered and the doors were locked, Kyle buried his head into his hands. “We’ve been out here fucking… galivanting around while Eric Cartman lurks around the corner.”

“You were doing exactly what Marj asked you to do.” Stan tried to reassure him. “She wanted you to distract yourself.”

“Had I known he was in town I would have barricaded her fucking doors.” He nearly growled. “Can we go, please? I have to make sure she’s okay.”

Stan cranked up the engine and they pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence. Kyle stared out the window the whole time, taking deep breaths. Stan tried to let his mind wander and avoid slipping down the same anxiety rabbit hole Kyle did, but no dice. He found himself puzzling with the same mystery he swore to Marjorine he would put down for good. It didn’t make sense. That extra bullet wedged into the stucco above the window was a riddle unto itself. Was the shooter so untrained that they missed that badly? And what if–

“Kyle, I just had a thought.” Stan’s eyes were glued to the road despite the fact that his heart was beginning to pound again. “I don’t know if you want to hear it.”

“I can handle it.” Kyle said calmly, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness that couldn’t be ignored.

“Remember the extra bullet?” 

“Of course I do.” He responded, confirming that he too still remembered what happened. “You thought that the shooter missed on the first try because it was dark and they were a bad shot.”

“What if the shooter missed twice?” Stan asked, finally turning his head. 

Kyle stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. His hands were beginning to shake. “Jesus Christ. Kenny wasn’t the target.”

“Marjorine is hated by a lot of people.” He continued, his throat suddenly dry. “These judgemental fuckers won’t let her forget.”

Kyle’s demeanor changed from fear to rage. “And who just happens to waltz into town around the same time?”

Stan took a deep breath. “Kyle, do you honestly think that Cartman would try to kill your sister?”

His tone was absolute. “Yes. Drive faster.”

Stan hadn’t even put his truck into park before Kyle leaped out and tore across Marj and Kenny’s front lawn. In the thirty seconds it took for Stan to shut off his truck and catch up to Kyle, he had already tried to unlock the door with his key several times.

“Shit, it’s not working.” Kyle’s brow furrowed in frustration. “Did they change the locks?” 

“No.” He handed his keys over. “Try mine.”

The same result occurred with the key easily entering the lock but unable to turn in any direction. Now Stan was starting to panic. The lock had been tampered with somehow and it definitely wasn’t Ike’s doing.

“We could go around the back.” Stan supplied. “There’s a back door that leads to the kitchen and the sliding glass door in the living room.” 

Kyle focused on his breathing for a moment. It was clear that he was trying to switch into a problem solving mode. “We can use the ax outside to break the glass as an absolute last resort.”

“An excellent plan, boys.” A smooth female voice came from behind them. 

Stan and Kyle spun around. They found Heidi Turner seated on Marj’s porch swing, lounging comfortably with the pillows. She was much as Stan remembered- light brown hair, brown eyes, button nose- but there was a layer of age over her. He noticed how exhausted she looked with the dark bags under her eyes.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Kyle shouted. “Let me guess, you were the one who fucked with the lock?”

Heidi smiled. “You always were so smart, Kyle. It’s a real shame we never had kids. They would have been geniuses.” 

Kyle balked at that statement. “What are you doing here and why can’t I get in?” 

She swung peacefully on the porch swing like she was entirely unbothered by the current situation. “You can’t get in because it’s not time for you to get in yet, silly. He’s doing his work in there and he can’t be disturbed.”

His eyes widened as he took in a ragged breath. Instead of continuing to argue, Kyle fully invested his attention into getting that door open. He began banging on the panes of glass, shouting his sister’s name. 

“Why are you doing this?” Stan asked Heidi. “What did Marjorine ever do to you?”

“I actually don’t have an issue with her.” She answered. “I’ll agree that I was antagonistic when we were children, but once Kyle and I got together, I apologized to Marj and our relationship improved. I don’t wish her any harm.” 

“But you’re actively harming her!” Stan gritted his teeth together. “Whatever’s going on inside–!”

“Stan, was it?” Heidi rudely interrupted him with a cool tone. “I remember you. You were Kyle’s very best friend when you were kids, right? He never mentioned you once he moved, though.” 

“That’s irrelevant to literally everything that’s going on right now.”

Behind him, Kyle was still desperately banging and shouting. It sounded like he was starting to use his shoulder to break down the door. Stan wanted to turn back to him, to help him accomplish his goal, but he was rooted where he stood. Heidi felt dangerous. He couldn’t take his eyes on her lest she pounce. 

“Let me tell you a story, Stan.” Heidi continued. “Maybe it’ll shed some light for you. When I was in college, I met an amazing man. As you could probably guess, his name was Kyle. At first he was very hesitant. He was deeply wounded from what I assumed to be a past relationship. After some time and encouragement, he became more invested in us. He and I had a great time together, going on dates, sneaking into each other’s dorms, fucking in public spaces- you know, the typical college experience. Oh, sorry, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

“You bitch.” Stan narrowed his eyes at her. He’d fought men over lesser slights, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt a woman.

“If you insist. Anyways, time passes and things get very serious between us. Proposal serious. But I could always tell there was something on his mind. He seemed distant on occasion. I began thinking that there was someone else in his life. Not necessarily that he was cheating- although I did look for the evidence. Call it a woman's intuition. Then one day he came out as bisexual to me. He told me that it was a secret he was deeply ashamed of. I found that to be very suspicious. It confirmed for me that there was someone else and that he was settling for me. I surmised that, due to his shame, the person he truly loved had to be a man. I’m guessing that man is you. Am I right?”

Stan found himself smiling as if he just won some sort of competition. “You’re right. It is me.”

Heidi smiled back sadly as if she lost. “Then I guess you and I are at odds with each other.”

Stan chuckled. “You and I have been at odds since you opened your whore mouth.”

A sudden scream ripped through the afternoon stillness. There was no question who made it. Marjorine was locked inside with a murder. Kyle was screaming at this point, threatening Cartman not to touch his sister. The door frame was creaking underneath his repeated tackles. Stan could see the door visibly bowing. 

It hadn’t occurred to Stan that he took his eyes off of Heidi for too long until pain burst in his temple. Stars flooded his vision. It took him a few blinks to see her, now standing, and holding an AR-15. It had to be the AR-15 that killed his brother. Now why did she have that? Stan staggered before he was able to stand on his own two feet. That had to be blood dripping down his face. Unfortunately for him, she was reeling back with the buttstock again. 

“All’s fair in love, Stan.” Heidi gritted out before the gun collided with his skull.

Everything went black.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning to set on Hell’s Pass. Shadows of the IV pole and heart rate monitor were casting long against the tile floor. Kenny was the unfortunate soul laying in the hospital bed. He was exhausted from his first round of chemotherapy. The doctors said that it was the only treatment option for his leukemia. Marjorine watched his chest rise and fall, rattled and slow. Their hands were clasped together and, as far as she was concerned, that was the only thing keeping her tethered to this earth.

Marj was devastated. Obviously she was hurting because Kenny was hurting, but her pain went deeper. Everyone else was hopeful. The doctors said that his prognosis was good, but she knew better. He was going to die from this disease. The curse was going to claim him yet again, and this time it will claim him slowly and painfully. Marj was preparing for the inevitable.  She and Kyle were keeping watch. Stan and Sharon left already after being by his side all day long. They both needed food and rest. They would return later in the evening. Kyle sat quietly beside her, worry etching deep lines into his forehead. It was very much like him to worry himself sick. Marjorine felt like this was her burden to bear as well. She placed her other hand on his knee.

“He’s going to be fine.” Marj lied. “We need to stay positive.”

Kyle fixed her with a heavy gaze. Desperation and anxiety swirled in his eyes. “Shit, Marj. What are we gonna do?”

“There’s nothing to do except be here for him.” She answered. “We support him. That’s all.”

“Are you guys talking shit?” Kenny muttered weakly from his bed.

Kenny turned his head to look at them. His usual chipper attitude was diminished by fatigue, but he still had a faint smile for them. He looked haggard. Golden hair unbrushed, dark circles under his eyes. Marjorine even thought that his face was thinning out a little. She blinked away tears of frustration. Kenny was only thirteen for Christ’s sake. He shouldn’t have to go through this. He deserved better.

“We thought you were asleep.” Kyle muttered bashfully. 

“You’re both being huge bummers right now.” Kenny frowned. “I’m alright, just tired. I’ll be out of here in a day or two.”

Kyle didn’t seem convinced. Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. They turned to find Eric Cartman standing in the open doorway. Marj could tell right off the bat that he was nervous. He wrung his hat in his hands.

Kyle scoffed. He had never once in his life been happy to see Eric. “It’s family only, fatass.” 

Eric narrowed his eyes. “None of you are related.”

Marjorine felt a brief flash of anger at that statement. The stacks of signed paperwork and the bang of a gavel insisted otherwise. Kyle and Ike were her legal brothers, Stan was her not-as-legal brother, and Kenny was the love of her life. Anyone who insisted that they weren’t family wasn’t someone she wanted around.

“What do you want, Cartman?” Kyle asked with obvious annoyance.

“Obviously I came to see Kenny.” Eric rolled his eyes. “What’s with the fucking third degree? You his guard dog or something?”

“He doesn’t want to see you.” Kyle insisted. “You’re just gonna stress him out.”

“It’s fine, dude.” Kenny spoke up. He sat up fully, adjusting his pillows to help him stay upright. “I can handle a basic conversation.”

Kyle huffed through his nose. They vacated their seats so that Cartman could sit down next to the bed. “Could we have some privacy, please?”

Kenny shook his head. “Whatever you want to say to me you can say in front of them.”

Marjorine and Kyle stood to the side to give them a modicum of privacy. She could feel Kyle bristling next to her, so she reached for his hand. Their fingers wove together easily. Eric looked over to them for a brief moment. He looked irritated, but also hesitant. That nervousness still lingered.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Like I’ve been microwaved.” Kenny answered, that weak smile returning. “They gotta zap all the cancer cells or something.”

Eric huffed out in mild amusement. “We only just started learning about cell reproduction and now we gotta worry about killing yours. Doesn’t seem very fair.”

“I’ll be fine, dude.” He said with far too much hope. “I just gotta come back here every couple of weeks.”

“Jesus.” Eric muttered. “That’s a lot for a kid to handle.”

“I’ll manage.” Kenny was beginning to grow weary. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.” He said almost too quietly for Marjorine to hear. “We used to be friends a long time ago. I know you hate me now, but I still consider you a friend.”

Kenny shook his head. “I don’t hate you, Cartman. I hate the dumb ass shit you did.”

Marjorine felt herself smile even amid all of her negativity. That was such a Kenny thing to say. However, she wasn’t sure if she believed Eric. Stan, Kyle, and Kenny broke his arm just last year to defend her honor. How could he consider any of them to be his friends after that? Next to her, Kyle scoffed softly. He definitely didn’t believe Eric. He’d been burned too many times. 

“We gave you an option.” Kenny continued. “When Marj came out, we gave everyone the option to be cool and accept it or pay the price.”

“You were asking me to give up my deeply held beliefs-”

“You chose wrong, dude.” He interrupted. “All you had to do was keep your mouth shut, but you couldn’t do that. You made yourself our enemy, and so you paid the price.”

“How many more times do I have to pay it?” Eric asked, his voice cracking with emotion. “Kenny, you were the best friend I ever had. We used to do everything together. You slept over when things got bad, even on school nights. When the drug bust happened, my mom tried to get custody of you. Did you know that? The judge chose Stan’s family because they’re a two parent household, like that’s somehow better. How’s that going for you, by the way? Have you earned Randy’s love yet?”

The room was silent. Kenny stared at Eric with his mouth agape. Marjorine and Kyle watched on in shock. Liane Cartman petitioned the court? Eric loved him that much? 

“I got over it.” Eric continued after he received no answer. “Even when you started calling Stan your brother, I managed to get over it. But when she started putting on dresses and pretending to be a girl-” Eric snarled that word out like he still didn’t believe it. “-somehow I knew that was the end. You had passed me over once for Stan, and then you passed me over again for the Broflovskis. You expected me to keep my mouth shut and play second fucking fiddle to people who don’t even like me.  When I said no, it was because of more than my beliefs. It was because I knew I’d be selling out for a chance at your friendship, and even if I did it wouldn’t be like before. Fuck that! You chose wrong, Kenny.”

No one spoke for what felt like an eternity. The room felt heavy with silence, like any stray word could cause an explosion. Eric breathed heavily, his chest heaving. How long had he been carrying that around with him? No wonder he was so antagonistic. He probably felt lonely and dejected. Did Eric even have any friends, or had her brothers beaten all the other boys so badly into submission that there was no one left on his side? In defending her, did her brothers ensure his isolation?

Kyle scoffed loudly. “Jesus Christ, it’s almost impressive how you manage to make yourself the victim in every situation. You said awful shit to me and my sister. You were warned, and then you were threatened, and then you got your fucking arm broken. That was the consequences of your actions.”

Marjorine pulled on his hand in an effort to reel him in. She knew where this conversation was going to go if Kyle kept talking. Eric would dig his heels in and double down.  He wasn’t the type to admit to his wrong doings, but he was the type to secretly plot against them. As far as she was concerned, every time Kyle opened his mouth it was an invitation for Eric to further ruin their lives.

“Shut up, Kyle!” Kenny spat with a surprising amount of energy. “Let me handle this, okay?”

She could feel him tense further, his hand squeezing hers. They both kept quiet then. 

“Eric.” Kenny’s face softened then. “I hadn’t realized that you valued our friendship that much.”

He suddenly appeared bashful, his ears reddening, his eyes cast aside. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t.”

“Like I said, I don’t hate you.” Kenny continued. “You did some shitty things, but I think I speak for all of us when I say forgiveness is still on the table.” 

Marj and Kyle exchanged a skeptical look. Kenny clearly wasn’t talking about himself, as Eric never did anything to him directly. If he wanted to be let into Kenny’s circle, he would have to beg for their forgiveness. Was that even possible after all the years of antisemitism and transphobia? She couldn’t imagine counting him among one of his friends, much less one of her brothers. And what about Kyle? His desire to protect her and his hatred towards Cartman were basically part of his personality at this point. Kyle couldn’t let it go and his face told the tale: never in a million years.

Eric turned to them and Marjorine’s stomach swooped. For the first time, she thought that Eric looked… vulnerable, scared, genuine. She knew better than anyone that he could fake it. She herself had been fooled so many times before, leaving her brothers to rescue her from whatever pit he led her down. But now, she saw that the layers of crudeness and cruelty had been swept away. Perhaps in those yearning seconds they saw the real Eric- the boy who truly only desired companionship but couldn’t keep it. Then those seconds were over, and the boiling rage returned.

“No.” Eric shook his head. “I don’t need forgiveness. Especially not from the people you cast me aside for.”

Kenny frowned. “I never ‘cast you aside’. We can still be friends, but you can’t go around disrespecting my lady and her brother.”

“And you just placed them above me again.” He was becoming angry, his ruddy cheeks reddening. 

Kenny was visibly confused. “Dude, there’s no ranking system. No one is above anyone else. If we’re friends, then we’re friends. That’s it. All you need to do is be cool.”

Eric took a deep breath as if grounding himself. “I think we all know I’m too far gone for that.”

Marjorine let in a sharp inhale. Kenny became visibly distraught, his frown deepening and his eyes glassy. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Then why did you come here?”

“I’m not sure.” He slipped off his chair and put his hat back on. “Bye, Ken.”

No one stopped Eric Cartman as he left the room. Kyle finally relaxed, but Marjorine couldn’t. She knew in her heart that he was already planning his next attack. 

Thursday Evening

Marjorine couldn’t really focus on much. Everything was tilty and strange. Her eyes were pinned to the far wall as she watched the late afternoon shadows flicker by. Her toes gripped the individual fibers of the carpet. There was a tingly, somewhat painful sensation at the base of her head. Moving wasn’t really an option. Her hair was being gripped there by thick, pudgy fingers.

That’s right, she remembered idly. She just woke up and found Eric Cartman in her house. He’d heaved her up by her hair as Heidi Turner - that bitch - dragged a passed out Stan and a shaken Kyle in. They kneeled in front of her now, maybe ten feet away. Stan was awake but bleeding from the head and Kyle was clearly thinking of a way out. Heidi stood watch behind him. She was holding a giant gun, strapped securely over her shoulder. Why did she have that? Were guns even allowed in New Jersey? Marj could have sworn that she watched a documentary about how that state outlawed guns and made everyone turn them in and they were all melted down.

“Did you hear that?” A cold voice asked from her side. A waft of rancid breath washed over her as Eric spoke. She was a much larger man than she remembered. Eric towered over her. He wasn’t quite as tall as Kenny, but it was close. He was wide, too. It seems that he grew into his largeness over time. His claims of being ‘big boned’ were apparently true. He was a brick house. 

Something cold and metallic pressed against her temple. Right, she remembered again. I’m being held at gunpoint.

“What happened?” Marjorine asked slowly.

Eric’s mouth twisted into cruel laughter. “You are so toasted, Butters.”

“That’s not her fucking name!” Kyle cried out in rage.

“Wah wah wah.” Cartman jeered with a snarl. “Who gives a shit? Keep complaining and I’ll blow his fucking brains out!”

More pressure was applied to her skull with the barrel of his pistol. Marj knew that she should be scared. Her life and her brothers’ lives were at risk. Fear, however, felt very far away. Fear felt like something she would have to go on a long journey for; through a river, over a mountain, answering some troll’s riddles three. That was okay, she didn’t need it right now. She simply tried to focus on the situation as it unfolded.

“Fine.” Kyle bristled. “Just don’t hurt her.”

Eric laughed cruelly. “Who gets hurt is entirely up to you.”

“Wh- what do you mean?” Kyle asked. Fear had reached him easily. She could see it in his eyes. 

“Do I have to spell it out for you, Jew?” He rolled his eyes. “Think about who’s right in front of you. The kid you bullied all throughout school and the woman you left for no reason. We’re here because you’re here.”

“Bullied?” Kyle cried incessantly. “You’ve gotta be joking!”

At that, Heidi pointed the tip of her barrel at Kyle’s head. He grew quiet immediately. Marjorine didn’t like that. She felt fear trickle a little closer.

“Thank you, Heidi.” Eric continued. “Kyle, you fucked both of us over. So now you get to choose. Three walked in, but two will walk out. Either your beloved sister -” He sneered at that word like he didn’t believe it existed, all the while pulling her hair harder. “-or your best friend. Choose which one dies.”

Stan let out a rattled, wheezing noise. “Oh Jesus no.”

“This isn’t fucking funny, Cartman!” Kyle yelled, but his voice wavered.

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Eric responded curtly. “These are real guns. Don’t make me demonstrate.”

Kyle continued to press. “What if I don’t choose either of them?”

Heidi huffed impatiently. “Then all three of you die. This is basic hostage shit. I thought you were smarter than this.”

“Kyle, please.” Stan pleaded breathlessly. He was grimy, sweaty, and bleeding. He looked like someone literally beat his ass into the dirt. “My daughter. I can’t leave Lucy alone.”

Kyle’s eyes widened as the reality of their situation dawned on him. Luckily for Marjorine, that hasn’t happened to her yet. God, drugs were great. She had to do this way more often. 

“You should think long and hard, Kyle.” Eric mocked. “It’s not a choice you can take back. Death is permanent, after all.”

“What are you doing this for?” Kyle spat with renewed anger. “You’re willing to kill someone over petty disagreements we had a decade ago?”

His features twisted into a malicious smile. “Oh, this wasn’t my idea.”

“Heidi!” Kyle swung towards her. “How could you?”

“How could you?” She parroted, looking down at him with icy eyes. “You’re stalling. You don’t have much time.”

“Tick tock.” Eric laughed.

“I think I’m gonna have a panic attack.” Stan said weakly, clutching at his chest.

Kyle’s attention narrowed in on him. He reached for Stan’s hands in a way that demonstrated practiced familiarity. Those fuckers have been holding hands all day, haven't they?

“It’s gonna be alright, Stan.” Kyle tried to calm him down. “I’m thinking.”

“I can’t leave Lucy behind.” He stuttered. Marj could already see how wet Stan’s eyes had become. “Please, Kyle.”

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Kyle said, and there it was. Just a simple flash in his eyes, the briefest, most blink-and-you’ll-miss-it change in his gaze. Marjorine was sure that if she hadn’t known her brother as well as she did, she would have missed it. A silent call to arms. 

“Is now really the best time?” Stan sniffled. 

“Yes.” Kyle responded. “I should have told you years ago, but I’m a pussy. I figure that if either of us dies and I haven’t said this… my whole life would have been a waste.”

Then Stan picked up Kyle’s hidden message. Stan was good at schooling his face when he wanted to. The barest recognition was instantly masked away. “Oh God, what?”

“I… I love you, Stan.” Kyle’s face was cloaked in red, his eyes glassy as well. “I’ve always loved you ever since we were kids. It killed me to see you with Wendy. Even when I was dating other people, I always secretly wished it was-”

Kyle was cut off by Stan surging forward and kissing him. They collided in a tide of frenzied passion, like they couldn’t get enough of each other. Marjorine was in legitimate shock. She never thought she’d see the day. Heidi was a statue, watching her ex-fiancé kiss another man with the most pathetically sad look on her face. Her grip on the rifle tightened.

Eric just laughed, tugging on Marj’s hair in the process. “I fucking knew it! I knew they were fags all along.”

Stan pulled back, breaking the kiss. Kyle had a look on his face that Marjorine had never seen before, something like awe or amazement. Maybe it was love sickness. Her little heart melted in her chest. Finally, her brother was openly in love. 

“I know.” Stan said. “I think maybe I’ve always known. Tolkien told me earlier that he thinks we might have sniffed each other out as kids. I’m starting to think he might have been right.”

“He’s a smart guy.” He sniffled. “Maybe we did.”

 “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.” Kyle smiled despite their awful situation. 

“If we survive this, I want you- no, I need you to come back home.” Stan pleaded. “All this time we spent together- even the boring, mundane shit -makes me think that we weren’t meant to be apart.”

“Stan…” Kyle began to cry, his shoulders shaking. “You can’t mean that.”

“I do mean it.” He continued, but he wasn’t faring much better. Tears were streaming down his face. “I want you to move in and help me raise Lucy. I know it’s selfish to ask you to change your whole life for me, but I feel so strongly- no, I know-   that we’re supposed to be together. I want you to be my boyfriend, partner, whatever you want to call it. The label doesn’t matter as long as you’re here. ”

“Is this your decision, then?” Heidi asked, her tone callous and cold. “You would forsake your sister?”

“No, wait!” Kyle’s panic spiked. “Marj?”

Marjorine hummed her acknowledgement.

“Are you doing okay?” He asked hesitantly. “Is he hurting you?”

“Fellas, I’m on a whole other planet right now.” She lied. She swayed loosely to sell the illusion.  “I don’t know nothin’.”

“I- I can’t choose.” Kyle cried, tears rolling. “Please don’t make me choose.”

“Ugh, I didn’t expect there to be so much blubbering. ” Eric commented. “Confessions? Sure. Begging? Totally expected. But blubbering? Jesus, I thought you were a man, Kyle. You’re right, you are a pussy. You want us to decide for you, is that it?”

“I know my answer.” There was mirth in Heidi’s voice as she pointed her gun towards Stan.

Fear flashed in Stan’s eyes. “Kyle, please. I’m begging you.”

“But my sister…” Kyle almost whispered. “We’re tied together.”

“No.” Stan shook his head in disbelief. “No! Kyle, Lucy needs me! Don’t make her fatherless.”

Kyle began to reach for Stan again, but it was different somehow. Determination shone clearly in his eyes. Marjorine could have sworn she saw the knowing phase in between them; the instant they both knew what to do and where to go. Then several things happened at once.

Kyle didn’t reach Stan. Instead, his hands suddenly veered to grab the barrel of Heidi’s gun. Before she could react he shoved the gun with all his might into her gut. Then, when she doubled over, he reeled back again and hit her in the face with the buttstock. A loud, sickening crunch filled the air. Kyle broke her nose. Heidi shouted in pain, covering her face. It did nothing to stop the tide of blood from dripping down her chin and onto Marj’s carpet. It also did nothing to stop Kyle’s onslaught. He hit her again and again.

At the same time, Stan darted towards Marj with more speed than seemed possible. A moment of shock seemed to freeze Eric, perhaps a mild trauma response from getting his shit kicked in by Stan so many times. Whatever it was passed. She felt Eric reposition the gun, removing it from her temple and pointing it towards Stan. 

“No!” Marjorine heard herself shout as she shoved her body weight against Eric.

She collided with his outstretched arm, swinging his aim out by several inches. Simultaneously, he pulled the trigger. Marjorine watched in horror as Stan was shot. The sound of the gun going off was only the second worst sound she heard that night. Stan’s scream of agony chilled her to the bone. He grabbed at his side and fell to the ground. Blood bloomed under his shirt and soaked up into the carpet.

“Stan!” Kyle cried, pausing his attack on Heidi and rushing over.

“You dumb mother fuckers!” Cartman yelled as he tightened his grip on Marj’s scalp once more.  She yelped in pain. “Now you all get it!” 

Marjorine gasped as the pistol burrowed itself under her chin. Fear was creeping ever closer now. Stan was wounded. They have moved from threats into promise territory. They were all going to die, and she would be the first. Their poor parents.

Eric snarled in her ear with a disgusting amount of pleasure. “Say goodbye, Butt-”

The gun slipped from his hand. Eric let out a grunt as his head snapped back, his double chin pointing towards the sky. Marjorine looked behind her, behind Eric, and her eyes filled with tears. There stood the love of her life, Kenny McCormick, in all of his glory. Rage etched into his handsome features. 

“K- Kenny…” Eric sputtered. 

“Let go of my wife. ” Kenny seethed with clenched teeth. 

Marjorine felt Cartman’s fingers relax. She rushed out of his grip and over to Stan and Kyle. Stan was looking pale. Kyle had already removed his shirt and was using it to apply pressure to the wound. His dress shirt was too thin to provide any real assistance. She threw off her fluffy robe and together they used that to stem the bleeding. 

Stan reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Marj, if you hadn’t shoved him… You saved my life. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Consider it repayment for all the years you helped save mine.” She told him gently.

“Kenny, Kenny, wait!” Came Eric’s voice, nearly delirious with fear. 

Marj’s attention was drawn back to them. With a shock she saw her favorite kitchen knife held up to Eric’s neck. Kenny was furious, hazel eyes burning with rage. His hand gripped the knife steadily.

“Y-you don’t have to do this.” Eric tried to bargain. “We can leave. You’ll never see us again.”

“Heidi.” Kenny ignored him and focused intently on the other intruder. “Leave South Park and never return. Don’t try to contact any of us. Do this, and you were never here.”

She stared at the both of them for a moment, weighing her options. Then, without a word, she bolted for the front door, her rifle cradled to her chest like a soldier running from enemy fire. At least she was smart enough to take an out when she saw one. 

“Heidi, you backstabbing bitch!” Eric screamed after her. “Come back here!” 

“Ken.” Marjorine spoke up. The truth was beginning to dawn on her. Eric wouldn’t be leaving here alive unless someone wanted to vouch for him. “You have every right to be angry with him, but we can still forgive.”

Kenny directed a sharp gaze towards her. “We are so far past forgiveness now. He squandered every opportunity we gave him.”

“Please, Kenny. We used to be friends!” Eric pleaded pathetically. “Don’t you remember?” 

“You squandered that, too.” He replied coldly. He pressed the knife a little deeper to Eric’s throat. She watched as a trickle of blood dripped down. It blended into the red of his coat.

“Kenny, you’re considering murder right now.” Marjorine’s breath rattled in her chest. Fear was only a hair’s breadth away. Maybe she was just sobering up. 

“He’s got a good story to tell the cops.” Kyle supplied. He was still applying pressure to Stan’s wound. “He came home, saw his fiancé held at gunpoint through the front window, snuck in through the backdoor, and defended his family. Plus, we know some really good lawyers.”

“I'm not talking about the legality!” She shouted at them. “What about the cost to your soul, Kenny? Could you honestly live with yourself?”

“She’s got a fantastic point.” Eric interjected. He sounded hysterical.

“What about the cost to my peace?” Kenny answered her. “How could I sleep soundly at night knowing this monster is out somewhere terrorizing people? He shot Stan and he was about to kill you. I’m just supposed to let that go? My forgiveness doesn’t extend that far.” 

“Holy shit.” Stan commented weakly.

“Kenny.” Marj’s eyes flooded with tears again. He was truly stuck between a rock and a hard place. What a terrible position to be in. “There has to be another way.”

“He can’t keep getting away with this!” He shouted. His voice was heavy with a mixture of fury, agitation, and exhaustion.

Marjorine felt herself deflate. She knew in her heart that there was no other outcome. Eric Cartman had committed crimes so heinous that he had earned this ending. Kenny was nothing if not resolute. His hand tilted, the knife gaining new traction against skin. Eric seized up against it. His breath caught noisily in his throat.

“Kenny, Kenny, wait!” Eric pleaded again, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I can do better! I can be better! Just give me a chance!”

“Marjorine.” Kyle was suddenly next to her. His hands were spotted with Stan’s blood up to the forearms. Stan himself was struggling to stay upright. He leaned against one of Kyle’s shoulders for support. He was still pressing her robe into his side. Thankfully, it didn’t look too serious. “You should look away. You don’t need to see this.” 

She nodded and turned her whole body. Kyle enveloped her in his spare arm. Marj pressed her face into his neck and buried her eyes away. Darkness overtook her vision. Kyle smelled of his usual cologne with a slight metallic tinge from the drying blood. She was almost comforted. 

She could hear Eric blubbering -the irony- and openly weeping in fear. “Please, Kenny! I don’t wanna die!”

“Oh, first time?” Kenny asked.

A sound Marj could only describe as ‘sharp’ filled the air and within seconds the gurgling began. She was wrong earlier. The sound of Eric Cartman gurgling was the worst thing she’d ever heard. The sound of him attempting to breathe and failing, and what seemed like gallons of liquid rushing past filled her with pure despair. Images came to her mind unbidden. She didn’t want to, but she imagined hundreds of rusty red bricks spilling out of his neck like rocks rolling off a cliff. 

She whispered a prayer for him into Kyle’s skin.

Chapter Text

Heidi was starting to sweat. She felt it saturating her jacket, her hat, and her gloves most importantly. South Park was especially freezing after the sun went down. It was easy to blame the high altitude for her difficulty breathing, but Heidi didn’t typically enjoy taking the easy route. The truth was that she was afraid; in equal parts of what she was about to do and the man next to her urging her on.

Eric not only was the brains of the operation, but also the financier. He bought her whatever was necessary - the air fare, new shoes so as to not be tracked, and her monthly dues for a local gun club back home in Hoboken. They taught her well, letting her practice with their own arms. Heidi presented herself as the worried sister of a battered wife and they bought it with ease. Now, in the hot air balloon that he rented, she handled the new AR-15 he had purchased for her in Denver after they landed.

“All the bells and whistles.” He guaranteed her with a crooked smile. “Anything for my partner.”

The arrangement was simple. Eric hated the Broflovskis. Kyle ruined her life. She never would have guessed that something as simple as inviting an old acquaintance in from the snow could cause her future to dissolve so horrendously. Heidi didn’t hate Kyle. She wanted him to hurt, but she didn’t want him to get hurt. Her hope was that he would be wounded so badly that he had no choice but to run into her arms. After all, there was no reason for him to have left in the first place. Eric came to accept that stipulation and changed the target.

Heidi could see Marjorine through her scope. She was seated at a long table next to her betrothed, her golden hair gleaming in the light. She wore a bright smile framed by classic red lips. Her white cocktail dress was immaculate and untarnished. It wouldn’t be that way for long. 

Something squirmed in her gut. Months of planning, months of talking everything over with Eric, months of assuring herself that this was the right move all fell flat. At the end of the day, she didn’t have any hatred for Marjorine in her heart. They were friends before. He was so protective of her that some of that rubbed off on her. Heidi also wanted to protect her to some small extent. If she and Kyle were still together, she’d be one of her bridesmaids. She also knew that if Marjorine died, Kyle would be completely hollowed out. There would be nothing left of him. 

No, there was another target, one that was approaching the table. Stan Marsh- Best Man and unquestionable loser- cleaned up nice in a suit. Jealousy flooded Heidi’s veins. She could imagine the look on Kyle’s face when they met again; slack jawed, his forest eyes sparkling in amazement. Just like how he used to look at her. Heidi couldn’t prove it, but she knew in her spirit that Kyle was head over heels for Stan, or at least he was in the past. That was the real end to things.

A frown pulled at her lips as she watched him. Stan’s shoulders were pulled tight to his neck. His eyes cut into everyone who entered his gaze. He looked like he was holding on to years of stress and agitation. Good. She’ll put him out of his misery soon. 

“Take the shot.” Eric’s cold voice creeped up on her from behind. 

“I’m waiting.” She informed him, stock still, trying to keep the fear out. He wasn’t going to like the results of his plan. Heidi didn’t know what would happen to her after, but she knew what he was capable of.

Kenny stood to make his speech. Heidi took a steadying breath. Calling upon the months of her training, she aimed down her sights at Stan and pulled the trigger. The gun popped off cleanly. She felt the buttstock jerk into her shoulder and a spark of hot brass grazed against her neck. 

“Shit!” Heidi shouted more in surprise than pain as she grabbed at her injury. She looked at the scene in front of them. Everything was undisturbed. 

“You missed.” Eric was displeased.

“First shot off a brand new gun.” Heidi’s voice shook with nervousness as she reset. “We can try again.”

He was silent as she readied herself. She re-aimed at Stan, who was listening intently to his brother’s speech. He was dead in her sights. With another shaky breath, she pulled the trigger. This time was a hit. She heard the distant screams of the reacting crowd, but Stan was still breathing, Horrified, covered in blood, but breathing. A cold wash of nausea hit as she discovered Kenny McCormick’s body draped over the table. 

“What the fuck did you do, Heidi?” Eric shouted. 

Heidi turned to face him for the first time. The craters and cracks of his chubby face cast deep shadows in the light of the balloon fire. He looked terrifyingly angry.

“I- I don’t understand.” Heidi stuttered. “It wasn’t shooting where I was aiming. Is this gun not bore sighted?”

Anger gave way to confusion. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Terrible, earth-shattering anxiety nearly caused her knees to buckle. “You said it had all the bells and whistles, but it wasn’t bore sighted? Were you trying to set me up for failure?”

Eric glanced at the window. “We have to get out of here before we’re spotted.”

“Jesus Christ.” Heidi was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to vomit.

Eric pulled out his pocket knife and leaned over the basket to cut away some of the sand bags. Heidi sank down to the wicker floor. Dear God, they had just killed an innocent man. 

“We’ll need to pivot.” He told her as he pulled on the chain. “Don’t pussy out on me now. We still have work to do.”

Heidi didn’t open her mouth for fear of the screams.

Thursday Night

It was dark by the time Ike arrived at Hell’s Pass. He burst through the emergency doors like a man on fire. After a quick pass through security, he arrived at check in. Before he could even utter a word to the receptionist, he heard his sister’s irate voice. Marjorine was just around the corner, nearly shouting into the phone. He could tell that she was still at least a little high. Guilt tore into him.

“Sir?” The receptionist said. She was an older woman with box red hair.

“Sorry.” He snapped back to attention as he dug for his wallet. “I’m here to see Stan Marsh. I’m his brother, Ike.”

“Do you know her?” The receptionist asked him, gesturing over to Marj.

“That’s my sister.” He confirmed. “I’ll calm her down.”

Once he had his sticker and the elevator code, he beelined for her. It didn’t take a college degree to figure out why she was so upset. He could hear his mother’s voice on the other end of the line.

“You’ve known him since he was in diapers. How could you not care?” Marjorine demanded to know.

Sheila said something on the other end that Ike couldn’t quite make out, but he was certain that it was bullshit. Marj’s brow furrowed.

“No, Ma, we’re all here because we love him! The only people missing are you and Dad. We want you here.”

Marjorine glanced up at him with eyes gleaming brightly. She was frustrated with their parents. Ike knew this feeling had been building up in her for years. It seemed that she was reaching her breaking point with them. This was all getting very complicated. She would have to let it all out before their father walked her down the aisle.

 “You know what?” She suddenly spoke up, no doubt cutting their mom off. “We need to have a family meeting. Your place in the morning. Expect all of us to be at your doorstep, especially Stan.”

Marjorine was in his arms nearly as soon as she hung up the phone. She shook against him. Ike couldn’t tell if it was from fear or anger. He stroked her hair comfortingly as he thought back to the call he had received from a very distressed Kyle: “Stan’s been shot! Meet us at the hospital!”

“What happened, Marj?” Ike asked as tenderly as he could so as to not further upset her.

“Eric broke in when I was alone.” She answered into his chest. “I think he was waiting for an opportunity. He held us at gunpoint and then shot Stan. I thought we were all gonna die. We would have if it weren’t for Kenny coming back.”

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered. “I saw him on my way to Flora’s, but I didn’t put two and two together. I just thought it was a coincidence. I should have turned around. I just called Kyle instead.”

“He’s dead now, Ike.”  Marjorine told him with a hollow voice. “Kenny killed him. He’s with Wendy now to discuss his legal defense.”

Bile rose in his throat. He swallowed forcefully, leaving his mouth dry. “Dear fucking God. How did you make it out?”

“Stan and Kyle provided a… distraction.” She answered. “They were just dramatic enough to let Ken come in through the back door undetected.”

“Huh.” Ike swallowed again. “They did learn.”

“I asked not to be alone.” She peered up at him suddenly. Her blue eyes reflected betrayal and anger. “Why did you leave me?”

“I…” A cold wash of guilt drenched him. Ike wracked his brain in search of an answer, but came up with very little. “I don’t really remember. It just seemed like a really good idea. Like it was important for me to leave. I’m sorry, I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

Marjorine pressed her lips together. “You don’t remember?”

“No.” He responded, his own confusion growing. “I wasn’t really even high myself so I don’t know why.”

She seemed to consider this for a moment. “Okay. I forgive you.”

Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but smile. It had to be the weed that was making her forgive so easily. He wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.  “Thank you. Do you want to go up and see Stan now?”

They broke their embrace and called the elevator. Once the doors closed, Marjorine looked at him mischievously. “So, Flora?”

Ike scoffed and rolled his eyes. He was grateful for the change of subject, however. He felt relief at being out from under her scrutiny. “Nothing gets past you, huh?”

“Was it at least a good lay?” She asked with a wide teasing smile.

He thought back on the past several hours. Flora grew into a beautiful woman- blonde and voluptuous. He had a great time with her, but for probably the first time in his life he enjoyed her company just as much as the sex. That’s not to say the sex was bad. In fact, Ike’s pretty sure his eyes rolled back into his skull at some parts. The two of them pillow talked for over an hour, uncaringly lazing about knotted in the sheets. He felt knotted up in her very presence. He had hung on her every word, watching her full lips form words like she was weaving delicate spells. Ike’s cheeks heated up at the very thought. “Is it too late for a plus one?”

“Wow, she’s got you feeling like that?” Marjorine grinned even more. “I’ll check later.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, finally releasing Ike from the clutches of embarrassment. She led him down the hallway to Stan’s room. The door was wide open and he could hear chatter coming from inside. The first thing he saw was Stan lying in bed. To say he looked worse for wear would be an understatement.  It was clear from the bruising and bandages that something hit him in the face repeatedly. There was an IV needle in his arm. Whatever was coursing through his veins had him completely knocked out. Sitting next to him was Sharon and Lucy. Sharon was trying to console her distraught granddaughter. Wendy and Kenny were whispering to each other in low tones.

“Hey everyone.” His sister said. “I brought Ike.”

Everyone turned to greet him. Lucy slipped out of her chair and ran to him. Ike picked her up with relative ease and held her close. “Howdy, little lady.” He greeted her as if he were a cowboy, tipping an imaginary hat to her. He’s been doing that since she was a baby. 

Lucy usually giggled at that, but now she only frowned with little pouty lips. Her big blue eyes shone with unshed tears. “Daddy’s hurt.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Ike informed her. “He’s gonna be okay, though. Your dad’s big and strong.”

“I know!” She suddenly perked up and flexed her arm muscles. “I am, too!”

He snorted a laugh at that. She was adorable. “You sure are, and he’s gonna need you to be strong for him too while he heals up. Can you do that?”

Lucy nodded with determination. Sharon stood to give Ike a quick (and relatively awkward) side hug. They didn’t know each other well, but he had a lot of respect for her. It must have been scary for her to find out that she almost lost a second child.

“How’s he holding up?” He asked as he let Lucy down.

Sharon let out a sigh. She suddenly seemed older than her actual age. Weariness seemed to seep into the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. “Thankfully he didn’t need surgery. The bullet just grazed him. The doctors were able to stitch him up pretty easily.”

Ike eyed the needle in Stan’s arm. “Is that morphine?”

“Yeah. Stan argued with three nurses before he finally caved.”  

Kenny and Wendy also came over. For some reason, Ike felt emotional as he hugged his brother. He obviously loved Kenny very much, but it felt like he hadn’t seen him in days. As Ike flittered back in his mind, he became more certain that was the case. When had he last spoken to Kenny? Tuesday? What happened in between then and now? He tried to recall the events of the last several days, but only snippets remained. He remembered hanging out and smoking with Marj earlier today. They maybe watched a movie together? The day before was mostly hazy. Ike got some clear images: him carrying a mannequin for some reason, Stan with a mustache, getting McDonald’s with his brothers, watching a hot balloon rise into the air. His attempts to delve deeper into the well of his memories left much to be desired. It seemed  shallower than normal. 

“How you doing, man?” Ike asked, partially because he wanted to distract himself from the alarm building in his chest. 

Kenny only shrugged. He wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It looks like I can avoid jail time. Wendy thinks the DA won’t prosecute.”

Ike found himself irked by his brother’s uncharacteristic evasiveness. “That wasn’t the question I asked.”

“I just killed a man.” Kenny hissed his answer out in a low tone so Lucy couldn’t hear. “It feels pretty fucking shitty.”

Suddenly Ike saw the weight of it as their eyes met. Kenny’s gaze was heavy with distress, remorse, anger. He seemed to quake like he had too much anxiety thrumming through him to keep still. He reached up to rub his face and Ike could see the faint traces of blood remaining in the crevices of his fingernails. Nausea overtook him then. Being told secondhand didn’t prepare him nearly enough. Kenny had killed someone. Ike didn’t know how- and didn’t want to- but the evidence was there. Eric Cartman had broken into their home, threatened Ike’s family, and paid for it with his life. What a terrible burden to have to bear, the knowing. How much worse it had to be for Kenny. To have to defend your home and loved ones against someone you used to consider a friend. It didn’t have to be this way, but Cartman never could let things go.

Marjorine stepped forward and embraced her soon-to-be husband. Kenny finally relaxed as he wrapped her arms around her. Ike could nearly see the stress leaving his body. It gladdened his heart to see them together again. What was it like to have someone like that? His mind wandered back to Flora and her chocolate brown eyes. Heat rushed to his cheeks again as he thought about seeing her again. His phone, which safely held her number in its memory, suddenly felt like it was burning a hole through his pocket. 

“Mommy,” Lucy spoke up. “Is everything going to be okay?”

Wendy stepped away from them to attend to her daughter. “Of course, sweetie. Now say goodbye, it’s almost your bedtime.”

Lucy’s bottom lip quivered. “I think I’m gonna have nightmares.” 

“You can sleep with me and Tolkien if you want.”

Lucy made her rounds, giving hugs to all of them. Finally, she kissed Stan on the cheek. He didn’t even stir. She frowned at that, but took her mother’s hand and left without another word. With her gone, Kenny went to sit by his mother and the two of them embraced. They spoke softly to another and Ike didn’t feel the need to eavesdrop. In fact, something was nagging at him. Someone was missing.

“Where’s Kyle?” He asked the room.

“Oh.” Sharon answered as if she had forgotten he existed entirely. “He stepped out when we got here. I thought that he was just going to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for a while.”

“Alright, I’ll go look for him.” Ike volunteered. “I doubt he actually left.”

Ike stepped out of the room, scanning up and down the hallway. It was eerily quiet. The nurse’s station sat abandoned, lit only by the familiar blue glow of computer screens. The other patient rooms surrounding them were apparently empty. Ike tried to strain his ears to listen for signs of his brother but came up with nothing. He checked the bathrooms with no luck before he began wandering through the hallways. Eventually he heard what might have been sniffling. He didn’t want to believe that it was Kyle. Ike could probably count on one hand the number of times he’d seen his brother cry. His heart sank in his chest as he followed the sound. After a few more turns, he spied a vending machine and a grown man hiding behind it. Just as he had feared, Kyle was crying. He sat with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, and his head buried in his arms. 

More guilt ripped through Ike as he watched Kyle’s shoulders rise and fall with his sobs. He fucked up bad .

“Ky?” He called out tentatively. 

Kyle’s head snapped up. Ike’s heart twisted looking at his brother’s face. Tear tracks dribbled down his tomato-red cheeks. “Oh.” He muttered. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Ike suddenly didn’t know what to say. He’d never seen him so distraught. “You okay?” 

Kyle simply shook his head no as his face crumpled. Ike decided that the best thing to do was ride this out until he felt ready to speak. He sat down on the ground and rubbed Kyle’s back as he continued to sob. He noticed as he did so that he wasn’t wearing the clothes he left in that morning. Instead, he was wearing one of Kenny’s flannel button downs. It was so large on him and dark in color that Kyle appeared to be swallowed by it.

“What happened to your shirt?” Ike asked.

Kyle took a moment to answer, trying to take in steadying breaths before he continued. “I used it to try to s-s-stem the bl-bleeding. Fuck, I can’t breathe.”

“Just focus on that for now.” He said, continuing to rub circles into his back.

That seemed to help. Gradually Kyle began to calm down. Breathing came easier and the tears finally slowed. Kyle wiped his face on Kenny’s shirt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ike asked after a few moments.

“Which part?” Kyle sniffled again.

“Any part you want.” 

“He, um, he told me to choose.” He started. His voice was still thick with phlegm. “He said he was there because I wronged him. He wanted me to choose between Stan and Marj.”

Meaning took a moment to dawn on Ike. “That’s fucking psychopathic, dude.”

“He would have killed us all had Kenny not showed up. There was no way I could have made that kind of choice.”

“I think he might have been banking on that.” He considered. “I mean, the more of us he takes out the fewer there are to get revenge.”

Kyle snorted, the faintest smile appearing on his face.  “Calm down, John Wick.” 

“I’m serious.” Ike insisted. “Idiots cops wouldn’t be able to stop me and Kenny anyways.”

His smile faded. “I was crying over Cartman, as embarrassing as that is.”

“Huh?”

“I know. It’s confusing.” Kyle continued. “I’ve always hated his guts. Well deserved, he was a shitty person right to the end. Dead named our sister, shot my boyfriend, the works. But there was always a part of me who thought he was overcompensating. Like all of his insults and crazy schemes were his armor rather than his weapon. It makes me think that he should have dropped all this shit way before it got to this point. If he had, maybe we could have been friends again.”

“We gave him so many chances, Kyle.” Ike vehemently disagreed. 

“I know we did, but now I think that maybe we should have made amends, too, instead of expecting him to do all the work. And I think that a lot of that was my fault.”

“This wasn’t your fault.” He was surprised at the sudden sweep of irritation he felt. “You didn’t put the gun in Eric Cartman’s hand and you didn’t pull the trigger. You’re not responsible for any of this.”

“He literally said they were back in town because I was!”

Ike paused for a moment. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Kyle hesitated as if he’d been caught in a lie. “Shit. Okay, you can’t tell anyone.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t tell anyone what?”

“Heidi was there, too.”

Ike blinked. “I know. I told you I saw her earlier.”

“I mean she was involved.” Kyle specified. “She held a fucking gun to my head.”

“Is that why Stan’s face is all fucked up?” 

Fresh tears rimmed Kyle's eyes, but his voice kept steady. He looked down at his own hands as if they were tainted. “Yeah, she did that. I broke her nose. There was so much blood.” 

"That was the consequences of her actions." Ike responded coolly. He had no sympathy for her. "Is she also dead?"

"No, Kenny let her go. She won't be bothering us again." 

Ike placed a hand on his shoulder. “None of this was your fault, no matter how much they manipulated you into thinking that. You left them alone for two years. You walked away and they still obsessed over you for all that time. That’s the literal definition of living rent-free in someone’s head.”

Kyle’s face crumpled again as he began to cry again. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Ike pulled his brother into a hug. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’m trying.” He heaved out. “I’m trying so hard.”

It wasn’t clear what Kyle was trying to do. Was he trying to accept that he wasn’t responsible? Was he trying to process the trauma? Was he trying to forget any of this happened? Maybe he was just trying to keep his emotions in check. 

“I know.” Ike said in a calming tone, even though he didn’t actually know. “I know that things seem rough now, but we can heal from this. The only people seriously hurt were our enemies. Everyone is still alive and that’s the most important part.”

Kyle nodded against his shoulder. “Is it bad that I feel relieved?”

“Relieved that everyone is still alive?”

“Relieved that Cartman is dead.”

“No.” Ike stroked his brother’s hair lightly. “Not after all the damage he caused.”

“I’m so relieved that he’s gone.” Kyle said and Ike could feel a deep-seated stress leave his body. “But I’m also burdened by that relief. I think he’s gonna haunt me, dude.”

“You don’t believe in ghosts.”

“If anyone has the willpower to resist moving on out of pure spite, it would be him.”

“Well, if that does happen we’ll burn sage or some shit.” Ike reassured him. “We’ll handle it together just as we always have.”

He lightly pushed Kyle away to get a good look at him. His face was still ruddy, but the tears had stopped. There was no ignoring the smile beginning to take shape. Maybe Kyle just needed a good cry. He seemed lighter than before. More guilt twisted in Ike’s gut.

“I’m sorry I left, Ky.” Ike said. “Had I known what would happen-”

“No, I’m glad you weren’t there.” He cut him off. “He would have just made me choose between the three of you. And I’m not mad about yesterday, either.”

Ike wracked his brain for a moment before he remembered that he outed Stan and Kyle to each other. They were so angry with him, but it seemed that his calculated move paid off with dividends. “So, uh, I heard you and Stan did a little acting earlier.” 

Kyle’s face erupted into a blush. Bingo. “Oh dear God.”

“You also called him your boyfriend earlier.” Ike said. “Picked up on that.”

“Yeah, he’s my boyfriend now.” He said carefully, as if speaking it out loud would make everything dissolve. “We put on a little show for Cartman. I told him that I love him, and he asked me to move back home. He confirmed it in the ambulance. He wants me here.”

“This is huge news!” Ike couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “Are you gonna do it?”

“Yeah, of course.” He answered, now smiling at himself. “Are you supposed to feel barfy when you start a new relationship?”

“I think those are butterflies, dude. In your case you’ve got over a decade of them built up.”

“Jesus.” Kyle ran his hand down his face in a show of disbelief. “What do I do?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not the brother to ask about monogamy.”

Just the very word ‘monogamy’ sent Ike’s own heart fluttering. He’s been down bad for a woman before, but never this bad. No other woman could compare to Flora, so there was no point in even looking anymore. It was easy to imagine waking up to her every morning and sleeping next to her every night. A truly divine miracle was occurring:  Ike’s hoe phase was coming to a close. The fair ladies of Toronto would weep when they found out.

Kyle nodded his head. “We should find Kenny. He would know.”

“Yeah, we should get back before people start to worry.” He agreed. “Stan might already be awake.”

“I’m already moving, you don’t have to sweeten the pot.” Kyle got up with a smile on his face.

As they found their way back to Stan’s room, Ike finally pulled out his phone. With a fair bit of nervousness he finally typed out the message he wanted to send all afternoon:

How do you feel about weddings?

Chapter Text

Kyle’s heart was hammering in his chest and it wasn’t from exertion. As he shoved hastily packed boxes into the trunk of his hand-me-down minivan, he likewise shoved down his anxious thoughts. Upstairs awaited his rented suit, complete with the red boutonniere pinned to his lapel. Kyle had no intention of wearing it today and already arranged for his mom to return it on his behalf. His stomach violently sloshed at his own sneakiness. There was a spot reserved for him at the Park County Courthouse next to his best friend. Stan was getting married that very day. Kyle couldn’t trust himself not to get upset so he wasn’t going to go. Moreover, he also couldn’t show his face after he wasn’t there. His absence would be noted, so his only option remaining was to leave.

Several universities had admitted Kyle, all of them with prestigious engineering programs. Kyle’s priority, however, was to get away as far as he possibly could. Stevens Institute of Technology was as far East as he could get without studying abroad or throwing himself into the sea. While the later option was tempting, it was too drastic. Disappearing entirely never to be heard from again was the perfect amount of drastic.

He managed to squeeze in the last of his belongings when movement caught his eye. His blood ran cold when he saw Stan Marsh standing in the middle of the street. Moreover, the furious look on Stan’s face froze Kyle entirely. It was as if he had just plunged into Stark’s Pond in the dead of winter- a crack of ice, a bone-deep chill, then silence. For a split second, there was no sound to be heard. No breathing, no heartbeat, no birds singing or wind gusting. Then Stan stepped forward and time resumed. 

“You’re leaving?” Came Stan’s voice as he stomped closer. It was less of a question and more of an accusation. “You’re fucking joking. You’re leaving right now?”

Kyle really didn’t want to have this conversation. He was hoping that Stan would be too lost in the festivities to notice. It would have been nice for Stan to actually enjoy himself a little before he realized Kyle was gone. It seemed that was just wishful thinking

“I have to.” He found himself immediately bullshiting, the lie forming as he spoke. He kept his eyes focused on his belongings. “This is just how the timing worked out.”

“Oh, now we’re lying, huh?” Stan was irradiated with anger. The smile he wore made it seem like he found everything dangerously amusing. “You think I don’t know the exact day my best friend leaves for college? You think I didn’t plan everything carefully so that we still have time to hang out? Tell me the truth, Kyle. Why in the actual fuck are you packing up your shit two weeks early?”

Kyle’s heart ached. Of course Stan would have integrated him into his plans. God, loving him was so hard. All of his neural pathways have been rerouted. Stan now lived in the reward center in his brain, releasing dopamine and serotonin just at the mere thought of him. Part of him was relishing the idea of leaving early just so he could get some perspective . He felt like a junkie who had been cut off. If he couldn’t have Stan romantically, then Kyle wouldn’t have him at all. May his heart turn to stone.

“Did you maybe think that I can’t stand to be here anymore?” The words were acrid at the back of Kyle’s throat. The truth tasted like licking a battery. “I’m done, Stan.”

“Done with what, exactly?” Stan stepped up onto his parents’ driveway. His smile was hanging on a razor’s edge. The muscles underneath twitched with exertion. “Done with me? Because skipping town on my wedding day is probably the best way to make sure we’re done.”

“Yeah.” Kyle nodded. He pressed his lips together in an effort to look nonchalant. “I’m done with you.”

Stan wasn’t so much as smiling anymore as he was baring his teeth. “Why?”

“I’ve decided that it’s not worth being friends with you” It was petulant, but Kyle hoped it would be effective. His chest caved in from the pain. May his heart turn to stone. “I mean, what do you actually have to offer me at this point? Married at eighteen to a woman you knocked up. That’s some white trash, back water shit if I ever heard it.”

“Oh.” Stan nodded as if Kyle had just told him what the weather was like. A switch silently flipped and suddenly his face was wiped of any emotion. It was a skill Kyle had seen before. Stan had the uncanny ability to shut his feelings out on a dime; an adaptation developed from a broken home.  He was good at hiding his pain. Kyle had never been the cause of it before. “So you get into a nice school and suddenly I’m the shit stuck in the treads of your shoe, huh? You get to run off and I have to sit back and watch you?” 

“What did you think would happen?” Kyle found himself saying. 

“I thought you’d be my friend!” Stan snapped, emotion beginning to flood in. Tears rimmed his bright blue eyes. Kyle immediately wanted to take it all back, but he refused himself. They were far past that point. “I thought at least someone would be happy for me. I thought it might even be you, best friend and all.”

“We haven’t hung out all summer!” His voice raised. “I’ve tried distancing myself, but it doesn’t seem like you know how to take a fucking hint so I’ll spell it out for you: I won’t sit here and watch you ruin your life.”

“Excuse the fuck out of me?” Stan spat out. He’d so easily taken offense. Kyle barely had to do any digging before he reached a sore spot. “I’m ruining my life?”

His eyes wandered down to the silver ring on Stan’s left hand. Jealousy and anger surged through him. “By the looks of it, it’s already been ruined.”

Stan’s left hand clenched into a fist. “I’m fucking happy!”

Kyle almost smiled. “No, you’re not. You’re miserable, and you wish you had the same opportunity I do. Anyone can see it. I don’t need to be your friend to notice how jealous you are.”

Suddenly Stan was only inches away, his face red from a mix of emotions, those eyes still watery. “Fuck you, Kyle!”

Kyle was smiling now, knowing he was hammering the last nail in the coffin holding their friendship. “You should have left her waiting at the courthouse. You should have let her marry one of these other low grade mountain men –”

The feeling of Stan’s wedding band driving into Kyle’s cheek was both painful and cathartic. Finally, the last tethers of obsession were snapping loose. Violence had always come naturally to him. The feeling of his clenched fist was about as familiar as his favorite coat. Punching Stan back was easier than he expected. Soon they were in a full blown fight, hatred heavy in both of them, wounds splitting open with little fanfare. Kyle wanted to hurt him and be hurt in turn. He needed to get it all out. He kept going, taking hits and doling them out until someone physically pulled him away.

“Stop it, both of you!” Gerald boomed right into Kyle’s ear as he pried them apart. He had his arms wrapped around Kyle’s chest, keeping him pinned.

Stan stood there with a bloody face and destroyed suit, gasping in exertion. Kyle stared at him and, when he still felt a surge of attraction, raged against the confines of his father’s embrace. No, he wasn’t done! He wasn’t supposed to feel anything after this. He was supposed to be empty. Gerald intervened too soon.

“Kyle, what the Hell is wrong with you?” Gerald asked while keeping him pinned against his chest.

“Let me go!” Kyle screamed. “I’m not done with him yet!”

“Yeah, you are.” Stan responded with cold mockery. His lip bled and trickled down his chin. “Daddy’s got you now.”

“At least I have a dad!” Kyle shouted back. 

Stan looked at him coldly as if all of his affection drained out of him. They both knew that was a low blow. He turned on his heels and began leaving back the way he came.

“Where are you going?” He demanded to know. “Come back here and fight me, you loser!”

Stan didn’t even do him the honor of looking back at him. He just flipped Kyle off and kept walking. “Fuck off and die, faggot.”

Gerald and Kyle both took in a sharp breath at that. They watched him leave, Kyle doing everything within his power not to break down into tears. Stone doesn’t cry. Stone feels nothing. He tried to convince himself he was no longer flesh, all the while listening to the whooshing of his heart in his ears.

Friday Morning

Despite all of the mentally draining, nightmare-inducing events they all endured over the last few days, Kyle slept like a fucking baby. It would be easy to blame the sleep deprivation brought on by his siblings, but he knew it was sharing a bed with Stan that brought him comfort. It was the softest, warmest bed he’d ever been in. Stan himself emanated heat where Kyle ran cold. Wrapped in borrowed pajamas, plush sheets, and a personal radiator, it was easily the coziest sleep of his life. He was almost disappointed when he was shaken awake. Kyle shielded his eyes from the morning sun as Stan leaned over him. Their faces were mere inches away.

“Good morning, handsome.” The smile was audible in Stan’s voice. “Sleep well?”

Kyle bit his lip. They were pressed so close together, their legs entwined, so close that he could smell traces of Stan’s toothpaste. Those blue eyes raked over his bare chest with pure desire. The combination of the softness of his surroundings and the arousal already building between them made Kyle feel even more disoriented than he normally did when first waking up.

A voice sounded out. Kyle was slow to notice the phone pressed against Stan’s ear. He smiled into it, the corners of his mouth pulling mischievously. A hot flash of jealousy wound around his heart. Who was on the other end making him smile like that?

“Who’s that?” He tried to look calm and gingerly wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

Stan turned back, those eyes burning. There was humor in his voice as he said “your brother.”

“Which one?” 

“Bitch, which one do you think?” Ike’s irate voice came through the speaker loud and clear. “Put me on, Stan.”

He obeyed, placing his phone into Kyle’s confused hand. “I’ll make you some coffee. Do you still like it black?”

Kyle nodded as Stan climbed out of bed and walked out of the room. His eyes followed the whole way, specifically fixated on how low his sleep pants hung down. Stan played both football and hockey when they were in high school. He wasn’t exactly jacked, but he was well toned. Kyle distinctly remembered hearing girls swoon about how hot he was and how Wendy was a lucky lady. Now, almost a decade after they graduated, Stan no longer had the musculature he used to. What little remained was hidden underneath the wide bandage wrapped around his abdomen. Despite all of this, the hot spark of attraction still relentlessly burned. It was a friendly reminder that he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

“Hello?” Came Ike’s voice, sounding annoyed, from the phone in Kyle’s hand.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Kyle responded with no shortage of his own annoyance.

“Mom and Dad did. I could really use the back up over here. There’s too much heat.”

It took a second to register his brother’s meaning. When it did, Kyle let out a groan. “Son of a bitch.”

“Mom is looking like she might barf from the anxiety, and Dad hasn’t spoken a word to anyone. He’s stewing in the living room, shooting daggers at anyone walking past. I think we should bail out on this, dude.”

“No, we can’t.” He answered despite his deep desire to agree. “We promised Marj we’d back her up.”

They had. After they returned to Stan’s hospital room the night prior, the three Broflovski kids and Kenny had talked out Marjorine’s desire to have a family meeting. She wouldn’t be dissuaded from her goal so they all resigned themselves to a hard conversation. Kyle couldn’t stress more that he didn’t want to do any of this. The very idea of sitting down and sharing his feelings with his parents made his skin crawl. But it was an old Broflovski tradition to bury one’s head in the sand when conflict came to visit. It was a tradition that had to die if their family were to survive a new generation. There was little sense in preserving something that made them all weaker. 

“Plus,” Kyle continued when his brother didn’t respond. “I have to come out. I’m sick of feeling like this.”

He didn’t need to specify what it was he was sick of feeling like. Ike’s light laugh told him he understood. “Oh man, I thought that was the sleep deprivation talking. You’re serious, then?”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” While the prospect didn’t thrill him, Kyle was no longer in a position to deny it. He wanted to be with Stan. Stan was out, so he had to be as well. That was really the only logic the decision required. In the face of true happiness, the reasons to stay in the closet seemed almost non-existent.

“Oh man, I can’t wait to see the look on Dad’s face.” Ike laughed again. “I might film it, actually.”

“Ike, please don’t make this into a spectacle. I know that spectacles are your whole thing, but just this once–.”

“Only since you asked nicely.” He easily relented before taking a brief pause. “I gotta go, Mom’s waiving me over. Get here soon so we can get this over with.”

“Alright. Love you, little bro.” 

“Love you too, dork.”

Kyle ended the call just as Stan walked back in with the coffee. Stan had a seat back on the bed as softly as he could as to not slosh the hot liquid over the brim of the mug he carried. Their knees almost knocked together. The proximity of their previous friendship was making a return to form, but neither of them seemed to feel the need to address it just yet. They would have many opportunities to navigate their changing relationship in the coming weeks.

“Thank you.” Kyle took it gratefully and brought it to his lips for a long drink.

“Sleep okay?” Stan asked him, but the way his eyes lingered told Kyle his mind was focused on something else.

“Yeah, I did. How’s your pain?”

Stan scoffed as if they were breaching a subject he didn’t want to discuss. “I’m totally fine on ibuprofen. Don’t try to convince me to fill that script. I don’t need Percocet to make it through.”

Kyle tilted his head. “You’re anticipating an argument.”

Stan looked back at him in confusion, which quickly hardened into resolve. His brows furrowed together. “I guess I am.”

“We don’t need to fight. If you don’t want to fill it, then don’t.”

Stan’s brows did not unfurrow. “What?”

“You’re a grown man.” Kyle drank from his cup between sentences, feeling caffeine blessedly running through his veins. “You can decide what medicine to take. I’m not your mom.”

“I… I wasn’t expecting that.” Stan finally appeared to relax, lying fully back down on the bed. His hair cascaded over the white sheets in dark contrast. Kyle couldn’t believe his luck.

“Was everything an argument with Wendy?” He asked against his better judgement. He didn’t want to bring up bad memories, but he needed to know how he could be a good partner.

“Or a lecture.” Stan pinched the bridge of his nose the way he did when he was over it. “You should’ve heard the third degree they were giving me yesterday.”

“I figured.” Kyle smiled at the memory. “Sicking Luce on me felt premeditated.”

“Did you enjoy her company?” Stan was beaming from ear to ear. He wore his pride well.

In that moment, Kyle watched his future take shape. He saw the two of them settling into a bigger place here in South Park, a house of their own; where snow settles into the crannies of all their window sills and the driveway has to be shoveled every day. He would do it every morning gleefully if Stan wanted him to. He watches them raise Lucy into the wonderful young woman he knows she’ll become. He sees the potential for marriage, more kids, mixed holidays, Sunday dinners with their expanding family- as hectic and loving as they already are. He even sees an improved relationship with his parents. In Kyle’s future, things like joy and happiness compounded and paid back dividends.  Only a fool would let it pass him by.

“I already love her.” He honestly answered, surprised by the emotion he felt. Kyle should have seen this coming. He loved Stan, after all. It was only natural he would love his child just as much. “She’s perfect.”

Stan took a sharp intake of breath and sat upright. “This became very real all of a sudden.”

Kyle took his hand. “You were asleep last night when the rest of us discussed it, so I don’t know how much you heard, if anything. I’m going to come out to my parents today.”

“Wow, super real.” Stan squeezed his hand back. “I won’t insult you by asking if you’re certain.”

“I’m doing it for you.” Kyle answered him anyway. “You deserve a man who’s out of the closet at the very least.”

“You should really do it for yourself.” Stan told him with a fair amount of skepticism. 

“Yeah, I’m bad at that.” He drained the last of his coffee. “Baby steps.”

Stan leaned into Kyle’s side and placed his chin on his bare shoulder. His smile was barely a whisper against Kyle’s neck. “Yeah, baby steps.”

Kyle and Stan arrived at the Broflovski residence, cleaned up and fully dressed, about twenty minutes after Ike called for the second time. Naturally, they had forgotten they had somewhere to be. Kyle was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything else except his new paramour. Earlier, when they had tried to talk at the rehearsal dinner, he could barely look Stan in the eye. Now he couldn’t bear to look away. The whole drive over Kyle devoured him mentally. The email they were both waiting for still hadn’t arrived, and his phone felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket.

Arriving back at home was a great distraction as some of the anxiety returned. Kyle stared at the façade of his parent’s house with trepidation. Revealing a fifteen-year-old secret would be a tall order for anyone, but in his case it wasn’t just a secret. It was a lie of omission. All the times Gerald and Sheila had asked about his dating prospects, he had lied to them. They were going to be very disappointed in him. A general queasiness seemed to strap itself in as if preparing for a bumpy ride. 

“You okay?” Hearing Stan’s voice was like ice shattering around him. It pulled Kyle back into reality from the fear that always surrounded the topic of his sexuality.

“I… I’m just nervous.” He answered. “It’s stupid to be, I know.”

Stan shook his head. “No, coming out is a big deal. Nervousness is normal.”

“I don’t know what to say to them.” His eyes flicked toward the house. The curtains were pulled back but no one was in the windows. 

“Do you want to practice?” Stan offered softly. “You can just say what you want to.”

“Oh, yeah that’s a good idea. Okay.”

Stan sat up a little straighter in his chair, turning his torso a little more and draping his arm off the steering wheel. He gestured for Kyle to speak with a flourish of his wrist.

“Umm, okay. Mom, Dad…” Kyle shoved down his embarrassment before continuing. “I’m queer, and Stan is my partner now. We-”

“You’ve said all you need to say.” Stan interrupted him gently by lifting his hand. “You don’t owe any explanations to anyone. If there’s something you want to keep to yourself, don’t let them wring it out of you.”

Kyle was struck by the realization that Stan was really good at blocking himself off. They were both well versed in keeping parts of themselves shaded away from other people. Stan developed that ability in order to keep himself safe in a dangerous home. Kyle, however, developed it out of fear of being found out. The dichotomy between them had never been more clear. Stan went through Hell in his childhood and strife in his adulthood. He was far stronger than Kyle ever would be.

Despite himself, he smiled. “I love you.”

Stan softened like butter. He reached up to softly stroke Kyle’s cheek. “There, was that so hard?”

“It’s getting easier.”

Kyle’s eyes flitted back to the front of the house. Ike was in the window now, gazing down at them. He gestured them inside with the curling of his pointer finger. Kyle swallowed down the last of his hesitancy. “We should go.”

They threw open the doors of the truck and trudged up the driveway. Ike had the front door open before they even got to the stoop. His eyebrows were furrowed together in frustration. “Jesus Christ, it took you guys long enough.”

Stan threw him a sleazy grin. “Yeah, it took me a while to work your brother open. Can we come in, please? I have to wash my hands.”

Ike scoffed as he opened the door all the way. “Don’t try to outgross me, dude. I’ll suck your fingers clean to prove a point.”

Stan’s smile died a quick death. He muttered “damn it” under his breath as he crossed the threshold. Kyle shot his brother a wilting look, which was ineffective in dampening Ike’s clear satisfaction. He walked into his parent’s house and into an aura of intensity. It was strangely quiet inside. There were sounds of a low conversation emanating from the kitchen. Forks clacked against dishware in the distance. Stan tossed him a confused look as they passed through the empty living room. When they stepped into the kitchen, all turned to look at them. Gerald looked irritated. He leaned back in his dining chair, both arms and legs crossed. Marjorine picked at her food with a mixture of boredom and the same irritation her father wore. Kenny sat next to her. He clearly didn’t want to be there at all. Kyle couldn’t blame him knowing the topics they would be shortly discussing. Ike took his seat, still bristling. The dark circles under his eyes were more noticeable in the bright sunlight of the kitchen. It was obvious that Ike didn’t get enough sleep for the second night in a row. Sheila was the first one to get up to greet them.

“Oh Stan, sweetie.” Sheila wrapped her arms around Stan gingerly. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, really. Just grazed is all.” Stan responded with a small amount of discomfort. He had never been super comfortable with Kyle’s parents because of the way they treated Kenny. They were never really rude to Stan, but the difference was noticeable. What was noticeable to Kyle was how his mom shifted gears into ass kissing mode almost instantaneously. She knew she was in trouble. 

“I’m sorry we weren’t there.” Sheila was nearly pandering, her eyes shifting between the two of them anxiously. “We cracked open a bottle of wine so we couldn’t drive-”

Stan held up a hand to gently silence her babbling. “Sheila, it’s fine. I was knocked out for most of my stay anyways.”

Visible relief surged through her, yet the tension in the room was still palpable. Kyle’s parents were missing the point the same way they always did. Still, he kissed her on the cheek because that’s what was expected of a son and took his seat next to Kenny. Plates of turkey bacon, eggs, and toast awaited them, nearly cold. 

“Would have been hot if you weren’t late.” Marjorine muttered next to them in between sharp bites of egg. 

“Yikes.” Kyle winced at his sister’s uncharacteristic harshness. “Sleep well?”

Marj tossed her fork back down onto her plate. They clattered together loudly, attracting the attention of everyone in the room. “Christ, how could I?!”

Kenny placed a calming hand on her shoulder. She exhaled and leaned forward, propping her head up on her elbows, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her long blonde hair swayed loose in front of her, the airy strands easily catching the light. Marjorine was as beautiful as she was stressed. “I’m sorry. No, I didn’t sleep well.”

Kyle decided to eat solely because he wanted to get the taste of ash out of his mouth. He supposed he couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room any longer. As much he was looking forward to his future, he still had to deal with the messy present. They almost lost their lives yesterday at the hands of Eric Cartman. Kenny killed Cartman. Kyle listened to him die. They were all safe now, but holy shit they very easily could not be. It was a fact of life they were going to have to adjust to: the sky was blue, the sun rose in the East, and an old friend tried to murder them in cold blood. His breath stuttered for a moment at the realization of a heartbreaking truth. No wonder his siblings didn’t get any rest. 

“We’re okay.” Kenny said out loud, but it wasn’t clear if he was speaking to anyone in particular. “We have a lot to be grateful for.”

Gerald loudly scoffed. He arose from his seat and walked out of the kitchen. Kyle watched him do this as he chewed thoughtfully on his room temperature toast, wondering if he was as dramatic as his father was. Gerald took a seat on the couch and asked “can we just get this over with, please?”

They all exchanged looks and then unanimously decided that the time had come. Kyle looked down at his own plate. He didn’t eat much. Stan, however, inhaled his food. In fact, he was shoving the last of his toast into his mouth as he got up from the table. Kyle swore under his breath and resigned himself to another mediocre breakfast. He was the last to enter the living room. Gerald and Sheila sat together in the loveseat they’ve had since the kids were in high school. His siblings were settling into the larger couch across from them. Stan sat at the far end, his arm propped up on the rest. Kyle instinctively went to his side, but tried to maintain a platonic distance. Ike plopped down on his other side, and Marj and Kenny settled in the other corner. It was a tight squeeze, platonic distance be damned. He kind of liked it. It filled him with a bit of that giddy energy they always had when sharing a bed together- a sensation of unending youth and joy that would hopefully make this situation a little more bearable. 

Before anyone could say anything, Marjorine held up her hands. She wore a light pink, bell sleeved blouse. She reached into the cuff of her shirt and pulled out an honest-to-God magic wand. It was made of a thin plastic rod with a glittery gold star glued to the end. Iridescent purple streamers hung from its five tips. Any small flourish of Marj’s wrist sent the streamers flying. Kyle recognized it immediately. The wand was one of the first “girl toys” their parents bought her. 

“Okay, we’re going to do this with little kid rules. This-” She held up the wand for inspection. “-is going to be our talking stick. Only the person with the talking stick can talk. We, the kids, will pass the talking stick amongst ourselves so that we can all say our piece. There will be no strays thrown, Ike .”

Ike pouted like she just ruined his fun.

“You, the parents, can speak after we’ve all spoken.” Marj continued.

“So this isn’t an open conversation?” Gerald asked, clearly offended by the situation.

“That’s right.” Marjorine smiled sweetly. “That way no arguments break out.”

Sheila looked like she might be sick. “Oh my.”

“Listen, this isn’t an attack on your parenting.” Marj continued. “We all think you were wonderful parents. We just have some things to say and we want to be heard out without interruption.”

Gerald laughed incredulously. “I can’t believe this shit. Fine, whatever.”

For a moment, Marjorine looked uncertain of herself. They weren’t used to their dad being so far on the offensive. She bit into her lip hesitantly, but her resolve hardened when Kenny put his hand on hers. After a deep breath, she began:

“I mean it, Mom and Dad. You are wonderful parents to me. Taking me in was hard enough knowing that I was traumatized from the Stotches, knowing I was gonna have to adapt to a whole new home and family. Even if I wasn’t trans, you were still going to have your work cut out for you. But, as you know, I am trans and it impacts every aspect of my life. When I say you did a fantastic job, I mean it. If I wasn’t placed with you, I don’t think I’d be Marjorine right now. I’m beyond grateful for how hard you fought for my right to be who I am.”

Oh man, this was heavier than Kyle was expecting. Sheila already had tears in her eyes, and Gerald was frozen like a deer in headlights. The siblings all sat still as stones. It has been a long time since they’ve addressed Marj’s transness as a group. Once she turned eighteen and all of her documents had her correct information, the battles they had against the system seemed to taper off. Kyle stopped hearing about people being cruel to her. Obviously people will always have their biases, but her identity was rock solid. 

“But I think that gratitude has stopped me from saying some of the things I need to say.” She continued with another deep breath. “When I was younger, I used to feel very conflicted. I felt like I had to balance my loyalty to you and my loyalty to Kenny. Every time you insulted or snubbed him, I not only had to comfort him but I also had to rationalize it to myself. Kenny never wanted me to say anything because he didn’t want to come between us, but we’re beyond that now. Yesterday we almost died. If-”

Marjorine stopped. Kyle watched the first of the tears form. A mixture of rage and grief twisted her features. “We were almost murdered!” She shouted hoarsely. “Shot in our home! If Kenny hadn’t-!”

“Marj, what the fuck are you talking about?!” Gerald shot up from his seat like a bullet. Sheila wept into her hands.

Marj’s eyes furrowed, but her anger didn’t give way. “What the fuck are you talking about?! I called you last night and told you-”

“You told us Stan had been shot, but you didn’t say someone tried to kill you! ” Gerald shouted, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We thought it was an accidental discharge.”

“Like Hell it was.” Stan muttered under his breath.

“What?” Her eyes flitted down in confusion as she recalled the night prior. “That can’t be right.”

“You never told us that!”

“I… no, I’m sure I did.” She turned to her siblings in bewilderment. “Did anyone else…?”

There was a beat of silence before Ike spoke. “When I got to the hospital you were already on the phone with them. I thought you told them everything because you were so upset.”

“I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.” Marjorine muttered, burying her head into her hands. “Jesus, I was so high .”

“God Almighty, would someone explain to me what the hell happened?” Gerald asked.

At that, Marjorine buried her head into her hands and cried. Kenny pulled her into his side and began his rehearsed story. “Last night I came home and saw that our old friend Eric Cartman stopped by. Through the window, I saw that he was holding Marj, Stan, and Kyle at gunpoint. I snuck up on him by quietly entering through the kitchen door and then I…” He trailed off, looking down at his hands. “I did what I had to.”

“You killed someone?” Sheila asked in horror. Kenny turned away.

“My God, why didn’t you just call the police?” She demanded to know.

“Because he shot my brother and had a gun to your daughter’s head.” He answered with agitation. Kenny was a normally chill, peaceful guy. This whole deal had clearly perturbed him. “We live twenty minutes from the police station. There wasn’t time, and if I’m being honest, he deserved to die. All the years of torture he put all of us through alone was enough to justify it in my eyes.”

“But you could have just-”

“Your kids are alive,” Kenny spoke over her, something he never did. “and there’s one less anti-Semite in the world. I’m not sorry for what I did and I would appreciate it if we never discussed this ever again.”

“But-”

“Mom.” Ike cut her off. “Drop it.”

Sheila leaned back in her seat, annoyed at being interrupted so many times. The silence following weighed down on everyone in the room. Gerald sat back down slowly. “I need you kids to understand- all of you- that there’s nothing on this planet that would stop us from being by your side in a crisis. Obviously, had we known, we would have dropped anything to be there.”

“I’m sorry!” Marjorine stuttered out between sobs. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s my fault.” Ike placed his hand on her knee. “I was the one who bought you drugs. You weren’t in the right state of mind because of me.”

Marj didn’t respond aside from a few weak shakes of the head. She handed Ike the magic wand limply and turned deeper into Kenny’s side. The streamers fluttered lightly as they caught the soft blow of the heater.

Ike spoke up. “I think we should pause this conversation for a while. Tensions are heating up and I think we all need to cool off before we continue.”

Sheila’s head snaps up with a grimace. She clenched her jaw so hard they could almost hear her teeth grinding. “Don’t you dare. We’re getting this done today.”

“Sweetie,” Gerald reached for her hand. “we can wait until after-”

“I want to hear what other awful things my children have to say to me!” She snapped at him. “Let them get it out of their systems so we can move on .”

“Okay.” He tapped her hand comfortingly, choosing not to press the issue. “We’ll listen.”

All eyes fell on Ike and the flimsy wand in his hand. Ike turned towards Kyle with visible uncertainty. They knew exactly what the other was feeling: extreme guilt. They knew they had to clear the air- or that Marj wanted to- but they had no intentions of causing their parents distress. Kyle tried to nod encouragingly against volatile emotions boiling over inside him. At least the things they had to say were far less shocking. 

“I really didn’t think this conversation would go down the way it has.” Ike said shakily. “I knew that people would get emotional, but this…. It’s partially my fault and I’m sorry. I’ve messed up again. It seems like all I do is mess up.”

Kyle placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Just say your piece, dude.”

He nodded and continued. “Mom, Dad, I know I didn’t follow the career path you wanted me to. You know I tried. Teen court, an internship, a year of pre-law. I didn’t have to go through that effort to know that I don’t want to be a lawyer. It’s not for me. I love acting, and I’m really good at it. I know you’re worried about me ruining my life, but it’s my life to ruin. If acting doesn’t pan out, at least I’ll die knowing I pursued something I love. I just wish you would support me more. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Ike placed the plastic wand into Kyle’s waiting hand. It was suspiciously light. He inspected it closely. The pink candy stripe paint twisting up the shaft has worn away with age. Holding it made Kyle feel young again in a helpless sort of way. The small amount of giddiness he felt earlier was gone, replaced with the undeniable feeling that he was in trouble. This was his moment of truth. He was about to reveal a piece of himself a select few have ever seen. Soon it was going to be publicly available information. It was worth it, he reminded himself. The future he imagined for himself, Stan, and Lucy was possible as long as he didn’t pussy out. There was some small satisfaction as well, knowing Cartman and Heidi couldn’t spoil it for him. How did the old phrase go? The best revenge is a life well lived.

“Go ahead.” Marjorine sniffled nearby, having composed herself. “You’re the only one with any good news.”

Their parents perked up a little at this. They looked like they aged a little since they first sat down, but they were still his parents. Everyone in this room loved him most out of every person alive, and frankly he was tired of hiding from them.

“I know I haven’t been a good son recently.” Kyle’s mouth opened before his brain could catch up. “Or a brother, or a friend. You all know I’ve been struggling the past few years, but you don’t know that I’ve been struggling for a lot longer with something that, now in hindsight, doesn’t matter all that much. I’ve been hiding it and I don’t really know why anymore. All I know is that if I want to live a happy, authentic life, I have to come clean.”

Gerald and Sheila exchanged a worried look. 

“I’m… fuck.” There was something in Kyle’s chest that revolted against the truth. An abrupt tension snapped his jaw shut like a rabbit caught in a snare. 

Stan placed a hand on his back. “It’s okay. You can do it.”

Kyle nodded, took a deep breath, and finally opened his mouth. “Mom, Dad, I’m bisexual. I’ve known since grade school.”

“I’m sorry, you’re what?” Gerald asked. “I don’t think I heard you right.”

Kyle’s nerve slipped a little, but he regained it. He sat up a little straighter. “I’m bi. I’m attracted to both men and women. If you're wondering why Stan is here, it’s because we’re dating now.”

“Hi.” Stan beamed and waved at them. His other hand traced down Kyle’s arm and interlaced with his fingers. The feel of skin-on-skin provided instant relief. The words were said and he couldn’t take them back. A weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“The good news Marj mentioned is that I’m gonna move back home so that we can be together.” Kyle couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Sheila grew a wide grin. “Oh that’s wonderful news!”

Gerald didn’t smile. There was this intense look on his face that Kyle couldn’t quite decipher. That frown was so deep it nearly disappeared into his beard. He wasn’t happy for them. In fact, he looked disgusted. Seeing this nearly sent Kyle spiraling. Panic rushed in like a tsunami, and anger with it as its closest companion.

“Oh, now I remember why I didn’t say anything.” Kyle’s tone betrayed his bitterness. “He’s upset with me. God, Dad, nothing we do is ever good enough for you, huh? You put so much pressure on all of us, but the most pressure fell on me. The oldest kid, the only biological kid. I never felt like I could truly be myself because any step out of line shattered the illusion. Now that I’ve done that, you’re disappointed. Admit it.”

Gerald didn’t admit it. He got up from the couch and trudged up the stairs without a word. Kyle watched him go with an awful sinking feeling. Breathing was becoming much more difficult. His eyes stung at the rejection. This was always the most likely possibility, but having it become reality wounded him.

Stan squeezed his hand. “Give him a sec. He hasn’t said anything yet.”

“Gerald?” Sheila shouted up the stairs, annoyed with her husband. “Get back down here!”

“Give me a fucking minute, Jesus!” He shouted back.

“While we’re waiting, I have something to show you guys.” Kenny said, grinning mischievously and tapping away at his phone. He turned it to the rest of the group to inspect. It was a photo of Kyle from yesterday when he crashed on Stan’s couch. 

Marjorine and Ike burst into laughter. Kyle’s face heated up in a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. He turned to Stan, prepared to grill him about what the hell he was thinking, but the words died in his mouth. Stan wasn’t looking at him and he didn’t look bashful. He was staring at Kenny with fear .

“You’re already so whipped, dude.” Ike chuckled.

“You’re one to talk, Ike.” Marj teased. “You’ve been staring at your phone all day.”

“You got my message.” Stan said directly to Kenny, ignoring their siblings bickering.

“Loud and clear.” Kenny confirmed with deadly seriousness.

Kyle whipped his head between the two of them. They were being weird. Why were they being weird? “Is everything okay?”

It took a moment for Stan’s gaze to wander back to him. When it did, he seemed relieved. “Yeah. I’ll tell you later.”

Stomping sounds drew everyone’s attention back to the staircase. Gerald was coming back down with what looked to be a shoebox under his arm. He trudged back into the living room and spoke with a forced calmness. “Kyle, are you done? I’d like the talking stick, please.”

Kyle passed it over. Gerald inspected it for a moment before tossing it carelessly onto the love seat. “Okay. Okay, fine. If we’re all going to be truthful, I think it’s time I came clean about some things, too. Kenny, I think it’s time you had this. I’ve been holding onto it for too long.”

Kenny accepted the shoe box with no shortage of confusion. He opened the lid to reveal dozens of photographs. His mouth hung open as he began to sort through them. “How do you have so many photos of my dad?”

“We were friends.” Gerald answered bashfully. “I took most of those myself.”

“You were?” Marj asked, befuddled. “I always thought you hated Stu.”

“No, I-” Gerald interrupted himself with a shake of his head. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this out loud. We… shit- we were in a relationship the summer before we went off to college.”

“What?!” Everyone shouted at once like a thunderclap.

Kyle felt like he had just been slapped across the face. “Dad, you like men?”

Gerald didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need to. It was like Kyle was seeing him clearly for the first time. It made sense somehow. How much of his hardness and lack of flexibility was just self-loathing? 

“Gerald, what are you saying?” Sheila looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and betrayal.

“It was before we met.” He continued in an attempt to placate her. “He and I… I don’t know, we clicked and- well, I don’t have to tell you. You know what falling in love is like when you’re young.”

“Daddy, maybe you should sit back down and start from the beginning.” Marjorine offered. “You’re kind of all over the place.”

He nodded and took his seat next to his wife. Their hands wove together. “Stu was a different man back then. He came from a pretty good family, just him and his mom. He was so… bright and optimistic, a real friendly guy. We were lifelong friends, but sometime in our senior year something between us changed. I guess we were both curious. All I can say is that I wanted to be with him. I had already been accepted into Rutgers, but I was willing to go anywhere to be by his side. He didn’t feel the same way, so we broke up and went our separate ways.”

“Stu went off to Texas, where he met Carol.” Gerald paused to shake his head. “I’m sorry to tell you this Kenny, but she was the one who got him into drugs. He didn’t take an interest until your grandma died. Before then it was just weed. We both came home for the holidays after our first semester and he was different. We got into a fight. I was so angry with him because he not only threw my feelings for him out like they were trash, but he was also throwing away everything I loved about him. We lost contact after that. Once I graduated and moved back home, I found out he quit school and got married to your mom. Soon she was pregnant with your brother. I wanted to talk to him. I used to pass by his house every day on the way home from work and I would have to force myself to keep driving. If I ever saw him around town, I would choke down what I wanted to say. Sometimes I didn’t know what I wanted to say to him at all. Maybe I just wanted him to know I was here for him. I figured that one day I’d have the opportunity if I could just gain the courage. Then the charges were filed and I knew the chance had slipped through my fingers.”

“Dad, why are you telling us this?” Kyle asked with a heavy heart. 

Gerald stood up again and fished something small out of his coat pocket. “Come here.” 

Kyle stood and went to him. The object he was holding was a bisexual flag enamel pin, no larger than his thumb. It rested in the palm of his hand. Kyle had the vague notion that it had the ability to bite him. “One of my paralegals brought in pins last June. I couldn’t resist taking it, but I can’t bring myself to put it on. I want you to have this and wear it proudly.”

“Dad.” He croaked out against the surprising amount of emotion surging forward.

“I see you making the same mistakes I made. The secrecy, the lack of communication, the running away. Stu and I weren’t meant to be, but you and Stan can be if you play your cards right.” Gerald adhered the pin to Kyle’s lapel. “Maybe I don’t say it enough, but I am so proud of you. I hope you can find the courage to be proud of yourself, too.”

Kyle stared down at his shiny new pin. It announced to the world that he was bi. It wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it’d be. People would know him clearly for the first time in his life, and maybe that was okay. It might even feel good. He looked back up at his dad. “You know, we have a lot in common.”

“God, I hope so.” Gerald smiled warmly and, in a shocking turn of events, pulled him into a hug. 

At that moment, Kyle could feel the pieces he thought were missing slotting into place. All of the gaps in his heart were being stitched back together in clean little lines. He was out, he had Stan, and he had his father’s approval. What else could a queer man ask for?

They parted after a few moments and Gerald cleared his throat. “Kenny?”

Kenny looked up from his new collection of photos somewhat misty eyed. Kyle couldn’t even begin to imagine how he must have been feeling. Personally, he’d probably be pissed not to have those photos to remember his dad by, but Kenny was a better man than he.

“I owe you an apology.” Gerald said. “I know I was an asshole to you and I really shouldn’t have been. I guess I’m still angry with your father, but that really isn’t an excuse. I see all his greatest attributes in you. If you want, I could tell you some stories about him.”

Kenny choked on his response for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “I’d like that.”

Kyle, Stan, Ike, and Kenny all exited the house together. They still had last minute errands to run after all- tuxes to pick up and such. A forced quiet settled over them as they all but rushed to Ike’s car. Stan and Kyle settled into the back seat together. Once everyone was buckled in and the doors were locked, the four of them burst into excited chatter all at once.

“What the actual fuck just happened?” Kyle asked.

“How did that go so well?” Stan also asked.

“I can’t believe this shit.” Kenny muttered

“Our dads fucked, dude!” Ike shouted.

“Speaking of,” Kenny said mischievously, reaching for something in the breast pocket of his flannel. “Gerald probably hadn’t looked through that box in years. He’s a bottom.”

Kenny produced a polaroid and held it up for all to see. Ike busted out laughing while Kyle actually blanched. He saw some vague shapes, but even that brief glance filled him with revulsion. Stan took the photo and inspected it more closely.

“Wow, he’s limber.” He commented before putting the picture into his jeans pocket. 

“Gross!” Kyle laughed. “Why do you want to keep that?”

“It’s gonna be a long few months with you gone.” Came Stan’s reply. “Desperate times.”

“You can do better.” He answered with a roll of his eyes.

Kyle noticed Ike and Kenny looking at them intently. They shared a knowing glance with each other. 

“I believe you owe me some money, little bro.” Kenny said.

Ike gladly fished the twenty dollar bill he stole from Kyle out of his wallet. Kyle thought that if he grew up anywhere else, he’d probably be offended. This was South Park, though. This was just the culture out here and he really wouldn’t have it any other way. It felt great to be home.

“Best twenty I ever lost.” Ike commented. “This was very worth it.”

Kenny nodded. “I agree. I’ve never seen them look so happy.”

“We’re right here, guys.” Kyle reminded them, blushing deeply.

“So how does it feel to be out?” Kenny asked him. 

“Obviously it feels great.” Ike answered on his behalf. “Come on, look at him. He’s cheesing like crazy.”

Kyle noticed the aching in his cheeks just then. He’d been smiling for God knows how long. He glanced down again at his new pin and felt a new rush of excitement. His entire paradigm has shifted, the frame of his reality finally straightened out after years of misalignment. Every intake of breath felt like the cleanest he ever had. The hand on his thigh felt brand new and at the same time eons old. Everything he’s ever wished for came true today. 

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful life.” Kenny said wistfully.

Kyle thinks his brothers might be right.

Chapter Text

Four Months Later 

Summer was winding down in South Park. It was late August, a time when the stifling heat was only interrupted by the occasional breeze to remind everyone that autumn was imminent. It was a beautiful, cloudless afternoon. Stan Marsh’s surroundings were vibrant and tangible. Before him lay a well manicured lawn and fifty meters farther down, a paper target. He stood patiently at the head of the gun range underneath an awning. His trusty AR-15 lay on the hobbled wooden table immediately in front of him. To his left, he heard the soft pop of one of his competitor’s rifles as they shot off at their own target.

Stan never thought he’d have the chance to compete again. He hadn’t since before Lucy was born. There hadn't really been any spare time until now. So many of his friends and family showed up to support him. This was, of course, the Colorado State semifinals. It was a big deal. If he won, his next competition would be at the National level. Stan didn’t think he was that good, but as people loved to remind him, he already competed nationally and performed very well. 

He could see his uncles Jimbo and Ned the most clearly in the crowd. They loved to wear high vis orange as a fashion statement. Kenny towered next to them. The three of them were engaged in what seemed to be a lively conversation, most likely about either guns or cars. That would explain why Marjorine McCormick looked bored out of her mind. She stared blankly into the abyss as if willing this event to be over. 

There was another pop of a round, closer. Stan couldn’t tell how much closer due to his headphones automatically muting the sound of gunfire. The sound of applause after was also quieter. He continued to inspect the crowd and found Wendy and Tolkien, his mom, Gerald and Sheila, and Ike, who stayed home for the summer and would be returning to school next week. That was something they had in common. Stan was enrolled into Park County Community College now. His prerequisites also started next week. Prerequisites for which program he wasn’t entirely sure yet. He was leaning towards some sort of health science. His first choice was veterinary medicine, but Karen and Henrietta, both of whom used to be vet techs and definitely aren’t anymore convinced him out of it. 

As of that moment, he didn’t know what he was going to pursue. The only thing he knew for sure was that the choice was his to make alone.

Pop - this time it sounded like it was right next to him. A red light came in his stall, indicating he was next in line to shoot. Then Stan spotted the people he wanted to see most in the crowd- Lucy, who unsurprisingly had her nose deep in a book, and Kyle, who was staring right at him. He was leaning in his seat, his head propped up on his fist, and a familiar dopey look on his face. A flood of love and adoration came rushing in and Stan couldn’t keep the smile away. 

Stan was madly in love, and has been coming to terms with the fact that he’s probably been in love with Kyle for a very long time. That acknowledgement still stung when he thought of it, but nowhere as badly as it used to. After all, there was no other place he needed to be. Kyle was perfect in so many ways it was hard to believe that they weren’t made for each other. He was a great partner who focused heavily on making Stan’s life as easy as possible. There were times that Stan would come home to find that the groceries he needed to buy had already been purchased, dinner was ready, and his daughter was already being helped with her homework. Sometimes Stan would go online to pay a bill- or even his rent on one occasion- and found that Kyle already paid it. They didn’t even live together yet, he just wanted to do those things. 

At first it bothered him. Stan was a man more than capable of providing for his family, but Kyle was also a man and had the same desires. Then they talked it out. There wasn’t an argument or a lecture. Kyle didn’t make Stan feel like an idiot as he explained his logic. He listened attentively while Stan explained his. Apparently, that’s how healthy relationships were supposed to function. It was baffling, but also really nice. He didn’t think this level of happiness was possible for him.

An announcer called out his name- muffled, obviously- and the crowd cheered once more. Stan blew Kyle a kiss before he turned his attention back to the task at hand. He slipped the gun strap on, loaded his magazine with only one round, and pulled back on the bolt to slide it into the chamber. The buttstock rested in its familiar position against his shoulder as he peered down his sights. He could see his target with outstanding clarity. Stan knew that even if he lost today, his confidence couldn’t be shaken.

Stan flipped off the safety and pulled the trigger.

Pop.