Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kyle forced his heavy eyes open, regrettably getting ripped from sleep at the blaring sound of his alarm. He cussed when he couldn’t mentally turn it off and rolled over to slap the top until it stopped making noise. He sat up and rubbed his face, trying to rub the sleep out too, but it was to no avail. He knew he’d have a restless sleep last night when he stayed up until 3 AM studying for his tests tomorrow, yet he still did it, telling himself it was a ‘future him problem.’ Fuck his past self. And fuck his future self too because he knew he’d be doing it again tonight. 

Kyle pulled the covers off and sluggishly moved to his closet. He threw on an outfit and ran a brush through his hair, tugging aggressively until it got through. 

He looked up when his door burst open with no knock and his brother came in. 

“I’m stealing your TV remote.”

“You lost the living room remote again? You just lost it yesterday!”

“I was distracted doing other stuff, okay? It’s somewhere, but I don’t want to waste my time looking for it right now, especially if I can just use yours since it’s the same model.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, too tired to fight about it. Not like Ike was going to take no for an answer, already snatching it off the TV stand and walking out. 

“Can’t you have the courtesy of at least shutting the door on your way out?!?” Kyle yelled out as Ike walked away. He got no answer, just heard the television downstairs turning on to one of Ike’s dumbass Canadian channels way too fucking loud for 6 in the morning.

Kyle slammed his door shut, making sure Ike could hear it downstairs. He finished getting ready, putting on his signature hat and jacket and putting all of his papers and books he was studying earlier back in his bag before moving to the bathroom. 

Midway through brushing his teeth, Kyle reached into the medicine cabinet to grab some Ibuprofen. He didn’t have a full-on headache yet, but he felt one about to form, and when he found the lost remote in the place of the pill bottle, he knew it was going to be a bad one. Especially if the rest of the day continued down this path. 

He finished brushing his teeth and looked all around for the bottle, mumbling cuss words directed at Ike for being such a cottonhead sometimes. It took him way too long to find them buried behind all the band-aids and disinfectant ointments, long enough that his mom started to yell at him to hurry downstairs or he wouldn’t have time for breakfast before school. He took two right then and another when he got downstairs when Ike refused to turn the volume down. 

The second he finished, he quickly walked out and sat on the doorstep as he waited for Stan. Who was running late. Of course. That one wasn’t much of a surprise, but it added to his grumpiness nonetheless. He decided to take the time to study a little more and pulled out one of his notebooks and skimmed it for anything he didn’t understand yet. He could have just driven himself since he had a hand-me-down car that he could have taken – well, normally he could, the battery was currently dead and waiting to be replaced – but he didn’t really trust that thing. It was just supposed to last him until the end of the year, then he’d get a much more reliable one after graduation. And besides it being a hunk of junk, it gave Stan the motivation to get to class on time and not ditch, and he knew Stan wouldn’t leave him there with no word. It was a good way to hang out with Stan before and after school and make sure he wasn’t rotting away in his room. 

Kyle checked his phone anxiously as the minutes ticked by until he heard the familiar motor turning the corner. He bit down his nerves and annoyance, knowing yelling at Stan wasn’t going to help anyone, especially the man himself. He opened the passenger door and shuffled in, making sure he didn’t drop any of the notes he had out. 

The ride was quiet besides the My Chemical Romance playing low in the background, Stan taking the hint when Kyle reopened his notebook to continue studying. Kyle could tell Stan wanted to remark that he didn’t have to study so much, the usual ‘you’re so smart, you’ll do fine’ bullshit, but unlike normal, his study time had been cut short with all the other shit he had going on, so he really was far behind, even if Stan didn’t think so. 

They made it to the school only a few minutes before the bell rang, just enough time to find Kenny hanging at their usual spot with a few of their other friends, most likely talking about their Friday and weekend plans. 

“Hey, dudes!” Kenny happily greeted, his smile not deterred by either of their expressions. “I see you’re both having a wonderful morning!” Kenny slid to the free side of Stan, wrapping an arm around him and patting his arm. “Tolkien showed up this morning and showed us all this video from his security camera. When playing basketball, Clyde tried to show off his throw and it ricocheted off the pole and pelted him right in the fucking face!” Kenny pulled out his phone, pulled up his chat with Tolkien, and opened the video. 

Kyle watched as Stan watched, hearing the moment the ball hit the pole of the hoop and the sound of it hitting skin a split second later. Stan cracked a smile and let out a hearty chuckle, and Kyle inwardly thanked Kenny for existing. 

They both saw it, Stan’s decrease in mood. They weren’t sure when it started up again, most likely a slow, gradual transition, but sometime a few weeks ago it got bad enough that they caught on. The lack of focus, the tired bags under his eyes, not smiling when greeting people, isolating himself… it was pretty sad it wasn’t until he started wearing baggy throw-on clothes did Kyle, his boyfriend, realize the change. The next step, and he’d be going full goth again. At least then Kyle would surely take notice. 

Luckily he didn’t seem too bad; he still went to school every day, even if it was just to drive Kyle there (but Kyle preferred not to think of it that way), and he still cracked a smile and lightened up when given the attention he required. At least he was easy to pull out of that mindset, and they were both lucky Kenny always knew how. Kyle felt a twinge of guilt about dumping that responsibility on Kenny, being his boyfriend and all, and he would like to help him, but he had too much on his plate to be playing therapist. He had been feeling extremely high-strung the past month, and not to be an ass because he knew Stan had no control over it, but Stan’s mood didn’t help with that. It probably would be worse for both of them if he did try and fix him while they’re both trying to fight their own, very different battles. 

Still, he felt bad about leaving Stan to deal with things alone. As he watched Stan smile as he talked to Kenny, he made a mental note to schedule a time when they could hang out, just the two of them. Until then, or until Stan reached out to one of them, Kyle and Kenny – as well as anyone who got a good look at him – treated him very softly, refraining from making any snide remarks or teasing him about anything, only positive comments and lighthearted jokes. Until Stan reached out to them or overcame whatever hurdle he was facing on his own, that and his antidepressants would have to suffice. They made it very clear that he could always talk to them, and Stan knew that, so they weren’t too concerned if he hadn’t yet, like he had done in the past. 

Kenny looked away from his phone when he successfully lightened up Stan. “What about you, firecracker?” Kenny said, still with that bright smile even when Kyle glared daggers at him. Kenny heard Stan call Kyle that once as a term of endearment and decided it was okay for him to say it too because he thought it was funny and fit his personality. Much less endearing. “What’s got you looking so chippy? Did ya pull an all-nighter studying for that test you were talking about?” 

“No. I just stayed up a little later… until 3.”

Kenny whistled. “And I’m sure you’ll do it again tonight, wanting to be over-prepared and all, as in your nature.”

“I’m not over-preparing. I’ve only started reviewing this week. If anything, I’m way behind.”

“What do you mean?” Kenny questioned. “You’ve been too busy to hang out for the past two weeks. I thought you were studying or working on a project or something.”

“Busy with other shit,” Stan flatly responded. It was unclear if he was trying to be helpful or spiteful, but neither scolded him regardless.

“Yeah, um,” Kyle stuttered, thrown off by Stan, “I’ve been working on college applications. You know, researching, applying, scholarships, essays, documentation, you know the stuff.”

“Didn’t you already apply to that med school?”

“Yeah, but what if I don’t get accepted? Can’t hurt to apply to one or two backups. Or seven.”

“Seven??” Kenny echoed. 

Stan pat Kyle’s back. “You’ll get in. There’s literally no way you won’t.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to leave it up to chance. Better be safe than sorry. But all those applications and scholarships took a chunk out of my study time. I only really sat down to study starting yesterday.”

Kenny gasped in mock horror. “Only yesterday? How will you ever pass this one measly test with only 48 hours to study?”

Kyle scowled. “It’s not just a test, dick, it’s two. And they’re both AP courses.”

Kenny tsked. “Damn, two of your teachers gave you a test on the day of the festival?”

“You mean that music festival the mayor is putting on just to show how much our small town knows about ‘different cultures and genres?’ I’m already getting a headache thinking about all the different bands trying to play over each other.”

“Maybe it’ll be a little more coordinated than that art festival last month…” Kenny recalled the three buildings that burned down. “Maybe not. But at least the food is pretty good. Still kinda a dick move to make you do a test on the same day.”

“To be fair, the mayor just announced that stupid festival recently for popularity reasons while my teachers have an agenda. That happened to overlap.”

“You’re still coming though, right? You’ll be done with your tests by then so you really have no excuse.”

Kyle huffed a small laugh. “Yeah, whatever, I’ll be there.”

“Good!” Kenny slipped between his two friends and brought them in a group hug. “It’s been too long since we’ve all hung out outside of school!” He let go and pushed Kyle through the classroom doorway they walked over to, “Finish being smart so we can make dumb decisions together!”

Kyle waved them off as they continued down the hallway to their first class. Kyle calmly took out the notebook he was studying before and sighed. He didn’t remember over half the shit he was looking at, even after all that studying. And this was just for his AP World test. He hadn’t even looked at his notes for his AP Calculus II test yet. Why’d they have to be the two topics that were on the complete opposite spectrums of learning?

He spent the next two classes studying for his AP World test, then tried to haul himself in the library during lunch to begin reviewing his Calculus, but Kenny passed him in the hallway and demanded he take a break and join them for lunch. Kyle hesitated, then reluctantly agreed; he had been studying the review sheets the teachers gave him yesterday, so he figured a break could be useful. 

With the day he was having, he should have gone with his gut and pushed past Kenny to the library. Already stressed out of his mind, Cartman seemed to notice and fucking went for it. 

He hadn’t even sat down yet and Cartman hit him with the “Here comes the thundercunt.”

Kyle blew air out of his nose. He kept his mouth shut as he sat down with Stan between him and Cartman.

“Hey Kyle, you gonna eat that?” Cartman asked, already reaching over and shoving his greasy hands in his tray. 

Kyle’s lip curled and he pushed his tray over, letting Cartman win and have his lunch. Stan slid his tray over for Kyle, giving a small (forced, Kyle could tell) smile. “I’m not hungry.”

Kyle thanked him and took Stan’s fork with one hand and slapping Cartman’s protruding hand reaching over Stan with the other. “You already got my tray!”

“That’s technically yours now too, so I have to have that one.” 

Kyle stabbed Cartman’s hand with the plastic fork and the group covered their ears at his cry. 

“What the fuck, Jew? God, we got an extra bitchy ginger today! I thought you finished your period last week!” He rubbed his hand as he puffed his bottom lip out in a pout. “Is it because Stan’s been a whiny baby recently?”

“Cartman,” Kenny warned.

“Has he been too self-deprecating to perform during your daily fuck sessions? Is that it? You're pissy because Stan hasn’t given you a good dicking recently?”

Kyle slammed his fist down on the table. “Cartman, that’s fucking disgusting! Don’t you have any life besides making everyone else miserable?”

“You're the one who makes everyone miserable! Everyone else is just too much of a pussy to say it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, pissy, aggressive, Jersey, ginger, Jewish bitch that refuses to use an enema to get the sand out of his vagina.”

Kyle growled. “Not as much as they hate dealing with a racist, bigoted, manipulative chubby asshole who doesn’t even know what an enema does!”

“What did I say: know-it-all. I bet you also know how to use one.”

Kyle glared. 

“Fucking told you. This is why everyone talks behind your back.”

Kyle stared, jaw slacked, unable to think of a comeback. Fortunately, his group got tired of their conversation and butted in. 

“You’re just talking out of your ass, Fatboy,” Craig said in between bites of his sandwich. “You’re just still butthurt that we didn’t invite you to dinner before the festival and you’re taking your anger out on Kyle like always.”

“Like I’d want to go to dinner with you dickholes anyway,” Cartman muttered.

Conversations resumed their usual tone after that, but Kyle wasn’t paying attention. Cartman succeeded in pissing him off, and that argument was the only thing that was on his mind. Even Stan rubbing his back failed to pull him out of his anger. He had never been so thankful for the final class bell to ring so he could go back to studying. As he returned to his studies, Kyle found himself replaying his fight with Cartman, annoyed Cartman got the last insult. In the midst of studying in the quiet classroom, Kyle almost shouted out the perfect insult response that had popped up in his head. Damn, if only he thought of that an hour ago. 

Even though he got a review sheet for both tests (that he already finished), Kyle always studied more just in case. He felt better about both by the end of the school day, but not enough to call it good, and he texted Stan that he was going to spend some time after school in the library.

Kyle wasn’t the biggest fan of last-minute cramming, at least by itself, but it was pretty effective. By the time Kyle went home, he felt a lot more prepared. He still knew he’d be up late again, that’s just how anxiety works sometimes. At least he had a few hours of break time. He didn’t even check his phone until dinner, only then seeing the notifications he’d missed. A few were from group chats, some shitty or inappropriate memes, Cartman and Craig got into some sort of argument, and he got a private message from Stan a few hours ago. Only one, most likely because he knew Kyle was busy studying. 

Stan just sent him the typical conversation starter. He typed out a simple response back to Stan and left the group chats on read before putting it back down for the rest of the night. He only had a few more hours before he had those tests, and he planned on making use of that time.

He made sure to give himself enough time to sleep so he wasn’t a zombie in the morning, and thank fuck Stan showed up early to take them to school. Stan happily greeted him and didn’t expect a response since Kyle slid in with his textbook up to his nose, not even looking away to buckle himself in. Once they arrived, he tuned out Stan and Kenny’s light conversation as they sat in the courtyard waiting for class to start, only distracting Kyle when the bell rang. They walked quietly to Kyle’s classroom until they were outside the door. 

“Good luck Einstein! Not that you need it!” Kenny supported. 

“I still gotta get through first period before my test,” Kyle said pessimistically. 

“You want to give me your notes? I can make poster boards of them and stand outside your classroom and hold them up in the doorway when your teacher isn't looking,” he offered.

Kyle smiled as he rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll manage. I’d hate for you to get caught and have the teacher make us retake the test.”

“Nah, Mrs. Becks loves me. Mr. Hall might be a bit harder though if I get caught.”

“Just get to class,” Kyle said, already walking to his seat. 

He did one more skim through his notes during the short first class period before calling it quits and plopping down in his AP World class. 

Aaand he wished he studied more. He stared blankly at a third of those questions, most of them expecting a paragraph response. He was able to answer them all, although many of them were more of a wing-it situation than he wished. There wasn’t anything he could do about it now except wish he looked over those obscure sections more. 

Calculus wasn’t much better. The teacher decided to put the most difficult integral questions on the exam, mixed with maximum rate of volume questions back to back, most likely purposefully trying to trip everyone up since they used the opposite method. Again, he was left wishing he reviewed integration using trig substitution and optimization problems along with who besides Napoleon was a general during the French Revolution.

He was quiet during lunch, too busy Googling the questions – and arguing with Cartman – to engage in the rest of the conversation until he was directly paged. 

“I know you’re bummed about your test, Kyle, but at least it’s over! Now you can forget all about your woes at dinner tonight, eat actual food that doesn’t taste like cardboard-” Kenny lifted his half-eaten tray, “-and party all night! I stole some of my parent’s liquor so we can really enjoy the festival tonight!” The whole group sparked at that, all down except for Tweek.

Stan leaned in so the others couldn’t hear him. “I’m sure you did fine, Ky. You always assume you got a worse score than you actually did.”

“These were bad though.”

“Then your whole class failed and that’s the teachers' fault, not yours. Don’t beat yourself up about it until it’s graded. You’re miserable the whole time, and Kenny’s not gonna let up until you stop thinking about it. I’m not either.”

Kyle liked it when Stan comforted him, it had been a while. 

Kyle took a deep sigh and tried to let it go, for Stan. “Right, you’re right.” He closed out of the Google tabs and turned off his phone. “Are you still coming over after school?” It was a week or so since they talked about him stopping by to replace his car battery.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, um,” Stan stuttered, obviously forgetting about it, “yeah, I can for a little bit. Do you have the new battery?”

“Yeah, if time’s what you’re worried about. We should have more than enough time to get that puppy replaced before dinner.”

“Yo, penis swallowers, mind joining us in the private convo?”

Kyle closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “I swear to God, Cartman.”

----

Kyle reopened his textbooks as Stan propped open the hood of Kyle’s car. He did say he’d push the tests behind him, but he just needed to know the answers and how wrong he was, and since there wasn’t much Kyle could do to help Stan besides hold a few wires and test the voltage of the battery, he could quickly sneak in a peak. 

He sighed as he reread all his wrong answers, practically memorizing them now that it didn’t matter. 

“You better be working on your nonexistent homework and not looking at your AP textbooks,” Stan said, hunched over and not even having to look at him.

Kyle slammed the books closed. “I’m not!” he said like a little kid in trouble.

Stan let out a low chuckle. “Get your ass over here and put this thing in there.”

Kyle smiled and walked up with the new battery. Stan helped him put it in, and by helped he meant Stan basically did all of it while Kyle watched. Stan didn’t expect him to pay attention anyway, but Kyle was extra distracted this time. He always thought it was cute (and a little sexy) when Stan worked on things, but he looked extra adorable today. He had smiled more than he probably had all month since he saw him that morning. Even at lunch he was more talkative. Kyle couldn’t help himself and slid his hand down Stan’s arm until his hand was on top of his, slipping his fingers between the gaps of Stan’s hand. 

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“No, I’m just learning how to do it, following the actions with my own hand.”

Stan looked at him with half-lidded eyes, still smiling. Kyle took the opportunity to give him a little peck. He gasped and stepped back when his finger got pinched by the engine. 

“Shit, sorry,” Stan apologized. He brought Kyle’s hand up to his mouth and gave his finger a sloppy, wet kiss. He laughed as Kyle let out a disgusted squeal and went inside to wash his hands.

“You should go wash your fucking mouth out too; you just put my finger in your mouth after it touched the filthy insides of that car.”

“I’ve done worse,” Stan shot back, finishing the final test and turning on the car. He unhooked the lid and shut the hood before dusting his hands off each other. 

They came back inside, laughing like normal, something they hadn’t done in weeks. Kyle paused, remembering his backpack and books were still outside, and excused himself as he went to go get them. Stan watched him walk out, then turned to his father who was reading the newspaper in the kitchen. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Broflovski.”

Gerald looked up from his paper and smiled politely at Stan. “Hey, Stanley. How’s it going?”

“It’s… going. Long couple of weeks.”

“I know how you feel. We’ve been working hard back at the firm the past month, I don’t think there’s been one day I’ve come home on time.”

“...On that case?” Stan asked softly. 

Gerald sighed and put the paper down. “Yes, that one.”

“Any progress?”

“Not as much as we’d like. ‘Horizon Enterprises’ is a large company that has a lot of money to cover up its shady business. We got very lucky to get ahold of those documents, but until we catch a little more, it’s just something we have over their heads.” 

Kyle came back with his bag over his shoulder, witnessing his dad give Stan the sternest face he’s ever seen him give Stan.

 “We would be in deep trouble if those fell into the wrong hands, which is why we’re working as fast and quietly as we can.” Kyle didn’t need to ask what they were talking about; the whole family discussed his dad’s newest case trying to take down the shitty conglomerate that works to get natural resources in whatever way they could and sell them at ridiculous interest. He didn’t know much more than that, besides that what they were doing was illegal. Whatever that meant. But they were told to never bring it up or they might slip from their hands if it gets out. The only other person they told was Stan. Kyle asked if he could know since they never told secrets and it would be a bitch to hide from him, and he was relieved when his dad agreed. “You haven’t told anybody about anything, not even your parents, right?”

Stan shook his head in small quick movements. “...No, I haven't,” he responded. 

Gerald nodded, content with that answer, and went back to his paper. “Hopefully you won’t have to worry about it much longer.”

Stan walked out of the kitchen and back to Kyle. 

Kyle saw Stan’s eyes glued to the floor in thought and put a hand on his back. “Sorry if you wish you were never brought in on the whole case. I know you worry for our safety, but my dad says everything is handled. They won’t dare come for us with the dirt my dad and his coworkers found in their possession.”

 “I know. Still don’t like the situation it puts you guys in for trying to do the right thing.” Stan looked up with a small smile. “But as long as you’re all safe, I’m content and happy.”

Kyle patted his back before stepping away to adjust his bag. “Enough on that, that’s not our problem! Dinner is. You mind if I step in the shower real quick?”

“Yeah, go ahead, I should probably go home anyway.”

Kyle cocked his head. “You don’t have to. I washed the spare clothes you keep here and we have enough time to both take showers.”

“Not if I stay and distract you the whole time. We’re trying to get rid of the stigma of always being the ‘fashionably late’ couple, remember?”

Kyle pouted but relented. 

Stan laughed and gave him one more kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah, whatever, bye,” Kyle replied with feigned offense, disappearing into the bathroom as Stan walked downstairs. 

He genuinely did get upset however when Stan texted him an hour later saying he’d probably miss dinner because ‘something came up,’ and refused to elaborate. He closed out of their chat with an aggressive swipe and a huff before shoving his phone aggressively into his pocket. Kyle drove his now-working shitbox to the nice restaurant just outside of town. 

Kyle brushed off any questions about Stan, saying multiple times that he didn’t know and that he wasn’t his lap dog when they kept persisting. Perhaps he was being a tad petty about Stan's last-minute ditching, and all their friends asking him over and over wasn’t helping. Hopefully, they’d all stop once they went to the festival where Stan should be meeting them. 

It was safe to say Kyle was pretty pissed when Stan wasn’t there, and even more so when he wasn’t answering his phone. In a moment of pettiness, he turned off his phone for the rest of the night; if Stan was going to ignore him, he could do the same. Kyle tried to enjoy the night the best he could with the rest of his friends, and he did overall have a good time once he got Stan off his brain. 

The music was loud and abstract half of the time, but there were some good songs and bands that played, and Kenny was right about the snacks and drinks being really good. There were a few drunken fights and there was a giant hole in the stage by the end of the night, but it was honestly one of the tamest events South Park had ever had, Cartman present and all.

When he got home, he turned his phone back on, getting annoyed all over again that Stan hadn’t even texted once. Kyle’s pettiness of ignoring him didn’t even work since Stan didn’t even seem to care to text him back. He was supposed to come back with him and spend the night, but now Kyle didn’t even want him there. Not like he could get ahold of him anyway.

“What could be so important that you ignore your boyfriend all night, anyway?” Kyle grumbled to himself, tossing his phone on his bed. He finished getting ready for the night and checked his phone one last time, already knowing there wouldn’t be any new messages in that small amount of time since he last checked, then plugged it in before turning it face down on his nightstand. 

He wiped the annoyance from his brain for the night. Whatever the reason – and it better be a damn good one – they’d talk (argue) about it tomorrow. He still had a fun night, and he’d go to bed with that in mind and deal with what he assumed would be a gigabyte worth of sorry texts from Stan in the morning, knowing him.

--

Kyle slept in until the sun peeking through his curtains slowly roused him from his slumber. He stretched and reached for his phone before dropping his arms and slouching. Still nothing from Stanley. His relaxed peace from waking up was quickly replaced with annoyance again. Kyle left his room, not bothering to get dressed on this lazy Saturday, but paused on his way to the bathroom. Down the stairs, he could hear ugly, aggressive crying. He quickly rushed down the steps.

“Ma?” Kyle asked, nerves heightened. He hadn’t heard his mother cry like that in years. A whirlwind of emotions swept through him – anxiety, determination, anger – but nothing compared to the chill that ran through his veins as he reached the kitchen doorway. 

His mother and father were sitting there, Gerald with an arm around his mom and Sheila with her elbows on the table, leaning into her hands that covered her mouth to muffle her erratic breathing and catch her tears. Ike was sitting in the living room, stiff and quiet, staring at Kyle with wide, lost eyes. But what caught his attention was that it wasn’t his mother that he heard upstairs. 

The Marshs sat across from his parents, Randy with his head in his hands and grasping at his hair, and Sharon loudly sobbing and blowing into tissues, collecting a pile beside her. 

Everyone turned to him. He didn’t care, though; there was only one question on his mind.

“Where’s Stan?”

He only got some broken sobs as a response as Sharon put her head down on the table. 

“Where’s Stan?” Kyle asked again, much more shaky. 

--

Snow softly fell, sticking to the already covered ground. It crunched lightly as pairs of feet walked through the forest by Stark's Pond. Butters shivered as they walked past the water and up the hill, but it was unclear if it was due to the cold or the situation. Kenny wrapped an arm around his waist as they continued forward. They stopped in front of a small clearing where the snow was agitated from all the recent attention.

Kenny looked down in front of him, scanning the white police tape and tainted red snow. He held onto Butters tighter as the blond moved his head into his neck, unable to look. 

“How long have you been sitting out here?” Kenny softly asked the only other soul in sight, seated in front of the police tape. 

Kyle remained fixated on the space before him, kneeling right at the edge of the outline. “I don’t know,” he whispered, voice barely audible.

Kenny could tell it had been a while, at least an hour or two based on the snow piling on his hat and jacket he threw on over his pajamas. 

“...News spread fast. Nobody knows more than who it was and that… he,” Kenny tried to swallow the lump in his throat, “did it himself.”

Kyle closed his eyes. Kenny deserved the explanation. “Apparently it was sometime last night. There was a note on his phone describing how he couldn’t let everyone waste more energy on him. That it was for the better.” 

Kenny walked up so he could see Kyle’s face. His eyes were dull, glazed over, and empty.

“His family keeps some guns for safety and one went missing a few weeks ago; everyone assumed Randy lost it since he got drunk the night before – wouldn’t be the first time – but apparently Stan took it. Last night, he brought it here.”

Snow continued to fall, covering up the proof that anything even happened there.

“Why here?” Butters choked out.

Kyle finally brought his gaze up from the ground and looked at the tree in front of him. He blinked, and a small, somber smile formed on his lips as he looked at the heart engraving on it. “I know this place.”

The others turned to look at Kyle, then where he was staring. 

“When we were kids, we were playing around. Stan was running and tripped, scraping the shit out of his shoulder when he collided with this tree. I was more concerned about his arm, but he was too focused on the piece of bark he broke off, leaving a big hole in the tree. He tried to put it back, but it kept falling off, so he used his pocket knife to scrape at it until it stayed. When he was done, it looked kind of like a heart, and we laughed and wondered if any dumb, cringey couples would come across it and put their initials on it.

“Turns out one did. Us, years later when we got together.” Kyle reached up and lightly let his fingers graze the carved ‘S.’ next to the ‘+K.’ “It’s our place. Our tree.” His smile fell as he traced the letter over and over. 

“I was mad at him, last night. For not showing up. Not texting back… I was mad at him, while he was ending his own life.” The snow under Kyle melted as tears dripped down. “I could have saved him, but I was too busy being selfish.”

“It’s not your fault, Kyle,” Kenny tried to reassure. 

“All week, he was hurting, all month, maybe all year, but I was too fucking busy doing what? Stupid backup applications that I’ll end up tossing?” Kyle clenched his fist, not caring about the bark scratching his skin. “He was hurting and I let him! He’s dead because of-!”

“Kyle, no!” Kenny asserted. “We all saw it and didn’t act. Not just you.”

Kyle let himself fall forward until his forehead was also resting against the tree, next to his hand. “He can’t be gone,” he let out in a broken voice. “I need him. Please…” He choked on another sob. “I keep looking at my phone, waiting for his name to pop up. Looking behind me expecting to hear him tell me to wait up for him. I can’t live without him, Ken.”

Kenny got on the ground by Kyle and removed him from the tree, hugging him tightly. He rested his cheek on the top of Kyle's head, letting his silent tears fall freely.

Kyle held onto his arms for dear life. “I miss him,” he mumbled into his shoulder. “I miss him so much.”

“I do too,” Kenny said, voice cracking.

Butters walked over to Kyle’s other side and hugged him hard, crying onto his back. 

They sat there in their huddle for who knows how long, staying even after they had no more tears left in their body to shed. Other friends and acquaintances came by to share their respects. Some left flowers by the base of the tree, and some joined in their huddle for a while. Kenny and Butters eventually left when Butters’ parents grounded him for being gone so long, and Kenny most likely told Kyle’s parents he was still by the tree. They picked Kyle up easily with him having no strength to fight back, and took him back home as the sun was setting. He skipped dinner despite his family trying to convince him to eat something since he hadn't eaten all day. 

He went upstairs to his room and sank into his desk chair. His gaze flitted over all the scattered papers before he swept them off his desk with no care where they landed. With trembling hands, he picked up the picture on the edge of his desk; Kyle was holding up the camera with a big, bright smile on his face, giggling as Stan hugged his waist and kissed his cheek. 

Kyle’s teeth clenched as he choked back another sob. He clutched the frame tightly, curling into himself. He stayed like that, hunched over his desk and mumbling broken “I’m so sorrys” until exhaustion overtook him. 

----

Kyle’s heavy eyes opened at the blaring sound of his alarm. He stared at it as it continued to yell, wondering why it was going off during the weekend. Must have hit the wrong button or something and reset the settings. He reached his arm out from under his warm covers and lightly pressed the button to turn it off. He put his arm back under the covers and curled his legs up. His parents must have come in after he passed out and put him in his bed. He was a little surprised his back wasn’t even the slightest bit sore, but he didn’t have the brain power to focus on that. He brought his hand up to clench his hair and tried not to cry, at least too loud. 

Kyle jumped at the loud slam of his door being forced open. He opened his eyes and saw Ike walking in.

“I’m stealing your TV remote.”

Kyle looked at him, still on his side, confused. How was Ike not the slightest bit sad? He was before.

Ike looked at him, frown deepening. “What are you still doing in bed? Mom’s gonna get pissed if you’re late.”

“Late to what?”

“Where else, dumbass, school!” Ike’s voice softened as he looked at Kyle. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to snooze your alarm.”

“...Isn’t it Sunday?”

Ike gave him a face like he just grew a second head. “No, it’s Thursday.”

Chapter Text

“...Isn’t it Sunday?”

“No, it’s Thursday.”

Kyle propped himself up and checked his phone. Sure enough, it said Thursday, three days ago. He quickly sat up and dialed Stan’s number. His heart thumped in his ears and his eyes stung as it rang way too long, then finally a garbled, half-asleep “Hello?”

“Stan??” his voice cracked.

“What’s up?” he said more clearly, waking up at the sound of Kyle’s freaked-out voice. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle let out a long breath and all the tension left his body. “Nothing. Just… a really bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, not really,” Kyle said honestly. Plus, it sounded like Stan was having a hard enough time staying awake as it was. “You still picking me up for school?”

“Yeah, of course,” Stan responded.

“Good, I’ll talk to you then.” Kyle hung up and stared at his ceiling more relieved than he ever had been in his whole life.

“Nightmare?” Ike asked, listening in to Kyle’s conversation.

“Yeah. It felt so real. Too real.”

“Well, I hope you feel better,” he patted Kyle’s back. “Still stealing your remote.”

Kyle side-eyed him. “Where’s the living room remote? Did you lose it again?”

Ike huffed. “I was distracted doing other stuff, okay? It’s somewhere, but I don’t want to waste my time looking for it right now, especially if I can just use yours since it’s the same model.”

Kyle blinked at Ike as he snatched the remote off his TV stand and walked out.

“...Can you close the door?” he got no response and heard Ike turn on the living room TV at full volume.

“...Weird, the déjà vu just hit really hard for some reason,” Kyle mumbled to himself as he got up and calmly closed his door. He quickly got dressed and packed his bag before going to the bathroom. That dream must have given him a headache, so he reached into the medicine cabinet before going for his toothbrush. He pulled his hand back when he found the remote in place of the Ibuprofen.

Kyle grabbed it and twisted it in his hand. “Now that’s definitely familiar, and the bottle was…” Kyle shifted to the other side of the cabinet and pushed the band-aids aside. He grabbed the pill bottle, kind of freaking himself out. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and went on to take three and brush his teeth.

“Kyle!” his mother yelled from the kitchen. “Hurry or you won’t have time to eat breakfast before school!”

“Right. Coming, Ma!”

Kyle quickly went downstairs and ate as Ike continued to watch his show on the couch. Kyle tuned it out as he scrolled through his phone. Once he finished, he stood by the couch and watched a few minutes of Ike’s show as he waited for Stan. It wasn’t really his type of show, but he saw the amusement in it, so it entertained him enough until the time on his phone displayed the time Stan usually showed. He picked up his bag and said goodbye to his parents.

“Good luck Bubala! Let me know if you’re going to be home in time for dinner or if you’re staying late to study for your tests!”

Tests, right, he totally forgot about those fuckers.

“I will!”

He closed the door and leaned against it for a few minutes, watching the time on his phone. Stan was only about six minutes later than he usually showed up, showing up right as the time hit 7:16 AM.

“Hey,” Kyle quietly said with a smile as he got in.

“Hey.” Stan backed up and headed in the direction of the school.

The ride was quiet for the first minute besides the My Chemical Romance song that was softly playing in the background. “How was your night?” Kyle asked when Stan didn’t start the conversation.

Stan glanced away from the road for a second to look at him quizzically. “...Fine.”

Kyle was about to ask something else to keep the conversation but Stan beat him to it. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m okay. Why?”

Stan shrugged. “I guess I expected you to be super freaked about your AP tests, but you aren’t even ranting about them.”

“Oh,” Kyle said dumbly. “I guess my morning has been a little weird. But yeah, I should probably study.”

“No, it’s fine. I think you could use a break from studying. I’m sure you were up late doing so.”

“Just a little.” Kyle took a deep breath to calm himself when memories of the dream resurfaced. He remembered studying in his dream, and he still remembered a lot of the material. Especially what he messed up on the dream tests. “I took the morning off from studying. I’ll get back to it later.”

Stan seemed content with that answer and they went back to silence. Kyle wished they talked more, but Stan hadn’t been very talkative recently, and he should have expected that.

As they walked over to their normal spot, Kyle looked around them, watching the younger years toss a football, a group in the corner smoking pot, and hearing the band play “The Addams Family” in the wrong key.

Kenny looked up from whatever conversation he was having with their other friends when they walked up.

“Hey, dudes,” he greeted, distracted. He looked between them for a few seconds before smiling softly at Stan. “Tolkien showed up this morning and showed us all this video from his security camera. When playing basketball, Clyde tried to show off his throw and it ricocheted off the pole and pelted him in the face.” Kenny pulled out his phone and opened the video.

Kyle watched as Stan watched, hearing the moment the ball hit the pole of the hoop and the sound of it hitting skin a split second later. Stan cracked a smile and let out a hearty chuckle. Kyle looked at Stan hard, noticing the dark bags and inward tiredness.

He looked down at his feet as they walked. Kyle wasn’t sure what to do about his dream; it was like he was reliving it. Some bits anyway, some things were different. He thought. Honestly, he didn’t remember everything that was said or happened in his dream, especially the first day. He might be smart but he didn’t have a photographic memory, and there was a lot more that he focused on later in the dream.

Maybe he was overthinking it. The chances that he was having an exact repeat were practically impossible, so what happened in it didn’t mean it would happen the next few days.

But that look on his face, even when he was smiling, it was obvious he was still tired. Kyle always assumed it was physical exhaustion mixed with his resurfacing depression, but his dream kept creeping up on his mind, making him question if it was just his depression.

He looked up when Kenny paged him. “What about you, Kyle? What’s got you looking chippy? Did you pull an all-nighter studying for those tests?”

Dang, that was such a long dream he figured that was why he felt restless. He forgot he went to bed really late. “Uh, no. I just stayed up a little later. Until 3.”

“And I’m sure you’ll do it again tonight, wanting to be over-prepared and all, as in your nature.”

“I’m not over-preparing. I’ve only started reviewing this week. If anything, I’m way behind… I’ve been busy working on stupid shit.”

Kenny and Stan looked at him, confused. “What?” Kenny asked.

“Dumb applications and scholarships and shit. Maybe I wasted a lot of time on applying to anything and everything.”

“Don’t say all that,” Stan comforted. “You’re just trying to be prepared in case you don’t get into med school. Which you will, by the way. There’s literally no way you won’t.”

Kyle smiled. “Thanks.” He bit his lip before turning back to Stan. “Hey, Stan?” His boyfriend looked over. “You’re going to the festival tomorrow, right?”

Stan looked ahead, quiet.

“Stan?”

When he turned to look at Kyle again, he smiled. “As long as you are.”

“Yeah, I am.” He grabbed Stan’s hand, squeezing tightly. “And I want you there with me.”

“That settles it,” Kenny said with a smile. “Guess you have to now.” He wrapped an arm around each of them. “It’s been too long since we’ve all hung out outside of school!” He let go of Kyle when they reached his class. “Finish being smart so we can make dumb decisions together!”

Kyle tried to shake off that deja vu feeling again. He sat down at his desk and pulled out his study notes and his history textbook. He ignored whatever the personal rant the teacher was going on – and probably would go on for the entire hour – and opened his book.

It was weird, even though he only studied last night, he was blowing through his notes. Apparently, his late-night studying did wonders.

Kyle looked up from his notebook, tuned into Ms. Kelm's talk about her blind date for five seconds, then flipped open his textbook. Yeah, he’d much rather comb through the book than listen to that. Kyle did just that, reading over the sections he marked and pausing at a certain page. It was one he obsessed over in his dream, so much so that he memorized it. What was creepy was that it was exactly the same. Weren’t dreams supposed to be incorrect, especially with fine details? The text in a textbook definitely qualifies as fine details.

Whatever, he still went over them. Twice.

Kyle continued to review his review sheets and notes until lunch, then let Kenny drag him to the table.

Kyle got his lunch and walked over to his normal spot.

Cartman turned and saw him as he walked up. “Here comes the thundercunt.”

Kyle squinted as he let his tray hit the table. He didn’t engage and instead focused on his other friends until Stan sat down between him and Cartman.

As Kyle was responding to Jimmy, Cartman interrupted him. “Hey Kyle, you gonna eat that?” he asked, already reaching over and shoving his greasy hands in Kyle’s tray.

Kyle rolled his eyes and pushed his tray over, not wanting it now that Cartman shoved his hand in it. That was another big coincidence.

So was Stan sliding his tray over to Kyle, smiling softly and saying “I'm not hungry.” Well, that one was less of a coincidence because that was just how Stan was.

Without even looking, Kyle stabbed his fork down, hitting Cartman right in the center of his hand, making the fat man squeal.

“What the fuck, Jew? God, we got an extra bitchy ginger today! I thought you finished your period last week!” He rubbed his hand as he puffed his bottom lip out in a pout. “Is it because Stan’s been a whiny baby recently?”

Kyle was quiet. Next, Kenny tried to interfere.

“Cartman…”

And then Cartman…

“Has he been too self-deprecating to perform during your daily fuck sessions? Is that it? You're pissy because Stan hasn’t given you a good dicking recently?”

It still pissed him off. “Cartman, that’s fucking disgusting! Don’t you have any life besides making everyone else miserable?”

“You're the one who makes everyone miserable! Everyone else is just too much of a pussy to say it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Nobody likes a know-it-all, pissy, aggressive, Jersey, ginger, Jewish bitch that refuses to use an enema to get the sand out of his vagina.”

Kyle huffed, already knowing where this argument was going until he remembered the comeback he thought of. Kyle decided to let the argument play out.

“Not as much as they hate dealing with a racist, bigoted, manipulative chubby asshole who doesn’t even know what an enema does!”

“What did I say: know-it-all. I bet you also know how to use one.”

“Only because you couldn’t figure it out and begged me to teach you what it does.”

Cartman stuttered and got mad when his friends started to laugh.

“Yeah, well, only because I figured your twink ass would know what it was! God, your dad should have pulled out and shot you on the wall!”

“Gross, Cartman!” The group collectively said, and he whined. Kyle smirked, happy with the win.

Kyle enjoyed the rest of lunch, laughing and conversing with his friends. He made sure to involve Stan when he wasn’t jumping into the conversation himself. He really should have done so sooner.

Kyle went through the rest of the day, finishing up his final class and already walking to the library to study some more, but on his walk there, that stupid dream came back. He kept trying to tell himself it was just that, not some future prediction or some unrealistic gay shit like that.

But he did say he wanted to spend more time with Stan. And sooner was probably better than later.

Stan turned around when he heard his name being called out. “Kyle?” he asked, standing in his car’s doorway. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d haul yourself in the library to study for your tests.”

“I was thinking I could study at your house?” Kyle rubbed his hands together at Stan’s confused look. “I do want to study a bit more, but I really want to hang out with you.” Kyle waved his hands. “Actually, I don’t need to study. We can just hang out, and do what you want to do.”

Stan blinked at him, surprised. He glanced down at his keys and Kyle heard the doors of his car unlock. “I know you’re worried about these tests, Ky. You’re always welcome to come over, but I better see you reading your textbook.”

Even a little sentence like that, something that showed how much he cared, still made Kyle’s heart flutter. “Deal.”

The night was lovely even with Kyle studying, both of them lying on Stan’s bed as Kyle looked over those questions that bugged him from his dream, memorizing the pages instead of the actual things he should be reviewing. In any other circumstance, he’d probably be extremely freaked with the lack of studying he’d done today, but it was hard to focus on that when Stan was raking his nails softly against his neck and upper back. He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but it was long enough that when he woke, his cheek was numb and Stan wasn’t sitting there.

Kyle turned onto his other side, seeing Stan slouched in his deckchair, looking down. He watched Stan for a few more moments.

He looked nervous and fidgety as he typed something out on his phone.

“...Stan?”

Stan jumped, almost dropping his phone. “I didn’t know you were awake.” He closed out of whatever he was doing and turned off his phone, giving Kyle his attention. “How was your nap?”

Kyle got up. “Good. Didn’t realize how tired I was.” He stood behind Stan’s chair and tapped his phone. “What were you doing?”

“Uh, nothing. Just quietly entertaining myself, I guess.”

Kyle looked at Stan. “You know I really care about you, right?”

Stan looked up to meet his genuine gaze. “Of course, baby. I really care about you, too.”

Kyle opened his mouth to say it again to make sure Stan knew he wasn’t just saying it, but Stan cut him off. “My mom’s making steak and baked potatoes. I told her you were staying for dinner since you were still asleep and I didn’t want to disturb you. It should be about already.” They heard Sharon calling them from the kitchen.

“Right, thanks.”

Kyle went home soon after so Stan could do his chores so his parents didn’t scold him. He wasn’t motivated to do much, so he opened his phone as he sat on his bed. He looked at some of the group chats he hadn’t checked all day, the fight between Cartman and Craig had seemed very familiar even though his phone said he hadn’t opened them yet. Kyle just needed to put it down and go to bed and hope for a normal, happy dream.

He didn’t dream that night, but that was much better than any emotional rollercoaster. He got up and out of the house as Stan pulled up a few minutes early. Kyle's nerves about his tests flared up again with them just around the corner, but he still tried to ask Stan about his morning and listen. He still had all of first period to refresh his memory. Besides, the smile and conversation he got in return was worth it. He was glad Stan was feeling better enough to talk and lighten up the mood, even if it was just to try and get Kyle’s mind off his tests.

Kyle tapped anxiously as the teacher passed out the test to each row. He took a deep breath before grabbing a copy, then flipped to the first page.

He stared at it blankly. Not because he didn’t understand the question. On the contrary, he knew the exact answer, since it was the same question from his dream, the one he studied for excessively. He flipped through the rest of the questions, recognizing all of them. That freaked him out, more than the remote he found in the medicine cabinet.

…At least he knew all the answers. He went to his next class, not sure how to feel about that test, and then the same thing happened with his calculus test. He might not have remembered the questions word for word, but he was sure they were the same questions. Kyle took his time, getting familiar answers for the easy questions, and more realistic ones for the ones he wasn’t confident on before.

He left those tests the most confident in them than he had for any test he had ever taken, but he wasn’t very excited about that. Maybe he would if it didn’t entail something else yet to happen.

Kyle thought about it until his friends showed up at their lunch table. Kenny asked how they went, already ready to comfort him in case it went badly. He told them he did well, but left out the whole ‘I already knew all the questions’ part. Kenny looked surprised for a second before getting happy for him. Stan made a face at Kenny, giving him a sarcastic comment on Kyle’s behalf for his lack of confidence in him.

Kyle grabbed Stan’s hand, getting him to look at him. He reminded Stan about needing to replace his car battery, and Stan made a surprised face, obviously showing he forgot. Nonetheless, he said he’d come over after school to fix it.

----

Kyle sat on the doorstep as Stan tinkered with the inside of his car. He watched him as he worked, zoning out as he got consumed with his thoughts.

“You better be thinking about your nonexistent homework and not the small amount of points you missed,” Stan said, hunched over as he unhooked the battery.

Kyle’s eyes focused back on Stan, giving him a small smile. “I’m not thinking about that.”

“Sure, sure,” Stan said with his own smile, not believing him. “Get your ass over here and put this thing in there.”

Kyle walked up with the new battery and watched as Stan took out the old one. He handed him the new one and held onto Stan’s arm as he finished up. Kyle made sure to pick up his bag as Stan closed the hood of his car. They walked in together, and Stan greeted his dad, but since Kyle was with him, it was just a typical “hello, how are you” from each before they both went up to Kyle’s room.

Kyle took off his shoes and sat on his bed, stretching his legs out. Stan sat on the side and laid back, letting his back arch across Kyle’s legs. He had a smile on his face, like at that moment he didn’t have a care in the world. Stan cracked an eye open and caught Kyle staring at him. He rolled over and shifted until his head was buried in Kyle’s stomach.

Kyle chuckled. “Don’t know why you’re willing to shove your face that close. I didn’t get the chance to shower yesterday.”

“You say that like you smell after a day without showering. If you can still hug me after I get back from the gym on Cardio day, I think I can manage hugging a slightly wrinkled shirt.” He wrapped his arms around Kyle tightly, breathing in deeply before letting go and sitting up. “I should probably let you shower.”

Kyle’s anxiety rose as Stan stood up. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?”

“I don’t want to disturb your delicate routine.”

“I don’t need to shower,” Kyle offered. “We can just chill until dinner.”

Stan smiled and leaned down to cup his cheek. “I know you want to shower, and you could use one to wash away the stress of those tests. I gotta go home and take care of something anyway.”

“What do you have to do?” Kyle asked nervously.

“Something I’ve procrastinated long enough on doing.” He gave Kyle a peck before he could ask for more detail. “Don’t worry about me, baby.”

“...You’re still going to be at the festival, right?” Kyle said quietly, desperately.

Stan looked back into Kyle’s eyes. He gave him another small smile. “Yeah.”

Kyle watched him from his window as Stan got in his car and drove out of his sight. He stood there, holding onto his arms, a deep feeling of dread. He wanted to believe Stan. He did believe him. But that feeling refused to go away.

Through dinner, that feeling stayed, and Kyle found himself wanting the festival to start already, but when it finally did and they arrived, Stan wasn’t there. Kyle texted him and called him, but he didn’t pick up. His friends tried to convince him Stan was just an asshole who blew them all off, but there was a lump in his throat at the whole situation. He left the festival early despite his friend's protests and went to Stan's house.

Sharon answered after his fourth knock. He didn’t waste time and cut her off, asking about Stan’s whereabouts. She looked confused. “I thought he was at the festival with all his friends.” Kyle entered the house and ran up the stairs, seeing Stan’s empty room. He could hear Sharon downstairs yelling at Randy, annoyed that their son ditched and didn’t tell anyone where he was going. He, on the other hand, wasn’t angry at all, but afraid.

Kyle’s first thought was to go to Stark's Pond. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he quickly opened it, hoping it was from Stan. He flinched when his mother’s voice started screeching in his ear, telling him it was past his curfew and that he needed to come home now before hanging up on him.

Kyle stared at his phone with furrowed brows. He shoved it back in his pocket and continued in the direction of Stark's Pond.

“Wait!”

Kyle skidded to a halt when Kenny appeared in front of him.

“Kenny, I need to go!”

“You need to go home, Kyle.”

Kyle looked at him, angry. “Why do you care? You’ve helped me sneak out plenty of times before!”

“Something weird is going on tonight. It’s not safe to be out. Please.”

“Stan’s not home and he’s not responding! If something is going on, what if he gets caught up in it?”

Kenny looked at him sternly. “...If he hasn’t responded yet, he’s not going to.”

Kyle’s eyes widened at the bluntness.

“Go. Home. Please…”

Kyle held back the tears that threatened to spill over. Kenny guided him back to his home, which was one of the longest, tense, silent walks he had ever had.

He stayed up that night, unable to sleep. He sat on his bed in the dark until the sun came through his window in the morning. He heard the car pull up in his driveway, heard his mother open the front door, and heard the muffled cries of all the adults downstairs.

He put his head on his knees and hugged them. That dream wasn’t just a dream. It was like a warning, one he didn’t heed enough. He was given a second chance to save Stan, and even though he looked happy yesterday, it wasn’t enough. Kyle didn’t try hard enough.

Kyle moved his head so his chin was resting on his knees and he was staring at the wall. He just relived the worst three days of his life.

He didn’t leave his house that time. He saw the scene of the crime once, he couldn’t bear to see it again. His parents convinced him to leave his room, but sitting downstairs with a bunch of other people also in misery didn’t help much.

He didn’t touch his dinner, none of them really ate much, and continued to zone out on the couch in self-hatred. His mother wrapped a blanket around him at some point, and he let his body fall to his side and lay there, mindlessly watching whatever they put on – he wasn’t focusing. His eyes slipped closed eventually, exhaustion finally coming to him unlike during the previous night.

Then...

Kyle’s eyes snapped open and he threw himself up into a sitting position when his alarm went off. He let it ring, more focused on his phone. On the screen, in clear white letters: Thursday.

He stared up at the ceiling with limp arms, a flurry of emotions flowing through him.

“Would you turn that thing off already?” Ike yelled as he barged into his room.

Kyle snapped back to reality and quickly turned it off.

Ike shook his head disapprovingly. “I’m stealing your TV remote.”

Kyle looked at him. “Didn’t you lose the living room one just yesterday?” he mumbled.

“I was distracted doing other stuff, okay? It’s somewhere, but I don’t want to waste my time looking for it right now, especially if I can just use yours since it’s the same model.” Ike took it off his TV stand and left without closing the door.

“...I’m actually in a time loop,” Kyle mumbled to himself as the TV was turned on downstairs at full volume.

Kyle scurried out of bed and got ready with determination. He was going to use this time loop to his advantage. He wasn’t sure what caused it, or how to get it to stop, but one thing was certain to him: he would not stop until Stan finished these loops alive. Kyle would find a way to keep him from wanting to kill himself. He had to.

Chapter Text

Kyle spent the next few loops learning anything and everything about suicidal people. Signs, what goes on in their head, how to help them, what to say and not to say, anything. He studied those videos and articles harder than he ever studied anything else in his life. Everything he learned he tried. He told Stan how much he meant to him, that he could always talk to him, kept asking him if he was okay and that he was there for him no matter what. None of that worked.

Next iteration, Kyle decided not to leave Stan’s side. From the second Stan picked him up, Kyle offered to ditch his classes, clung to him during lunches, and stayed with him after school, even when Stan seemed to want a minute alone. He’d physically show Stan how much he cared for him, but that didn’t work either. Stan somehow escaped from Kyle’s sight when he was getting ready for the dinner before the festival and was found dead later that night by the police, as always. Maybe he was too clingy. Kyle stepped off Stan’s shoes a little bit and didn’t micromanage everything Stan did after that.

Kyle went through loop after loop, doing anything and everything he could think of to change Stan’s mind, except actually telling him he was in a time loop. Kyle was worried mentioning that would affect him getting out of it, but also he didn’t think mentioning it to Stan would help him. All it would do would make Stan postpone his death until Kyle was out of the loop. Then Kyle wouldn’t have the chance to keep Stan alive.

Kyle went hard on the tactics on Thursday and saved the more soft, desperate attempts for Friday. Kyle learned that people who were suicidal were the scariest on the day they chose as their last day. They were the happiest they’d been, filled with a sense of euphoria that it was time. That was when they needed to know someone cared about them the most.

He didn’t know how he didn’t see that before. The first two times Kyle took that as genuine happiness. He couldn’t believe he missed it.

If he learned anything from this whole ordeal it was that he was a really shitty boyfriend. He missed all the signs, let Stan believe he was a burden, and on top of that, he couldn’t even stop him from committing suicide when given multiple chances! Literally. He literally couldn’t stop Stan, because he couldn't find him. Every time when it reached Friday night, he wouldn’t give up and tried to catch Stan before he made it to the forest, but no matter where he waited and for how long, he was always too late.

Everything else was consistent and predictable – Ike bursting in at the beginning, the tests, the fights with Cartman (that he always won now, at least), even whatever was playing on the television at any point of the fucking days. He lost count of how many times he woke up to his Thursday alarm, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was reaching a month. Definitely long enough to remember the lines of the show Ike was watching, the conversations of their classmates as they passed Kyle in the hall, and every boring lecture in every class. Nothing hurt more than memorizing Stan’s suicide note though.

He never gave up though. He always got out of bed at the sound of his alarm and found something else to try. Even as he was exhausting his options, he refused to give in and found something new to try. From doing all of Stan’s homework to tucking him in at night, Kyle tried anything. Kyle even offered his body, which in hindsight was a really bad mindset, one someone being abused in a toxic relationship would have, but he was that desperate. Stan, being the good guy he was, didn’t take advantage of that situation and actually made Kyle sit down and talk about that one.

Kyle’s resolve was slowly getting picked away at every failure, every death. No matter what he tried, Stan’s fate never changed. After another Saturday night sitting alone in his room looking at the list he had to rewrite every three days and checking off everything he tried, he was left with a completely scratched out list. Kyle crumpled it and tossed it, then slammed his head on his headboard to help the high dose of sleeping pills he took kick in, and he was back to Thursday.

He threw his arm out and stopped the alarm after one ring, not even needing to take his gaze off the ceiling. This wasn’t working. Kyle might have to throw in the towel. He couldn’t save Stan.

His door slammed open. “I’m stealing your-”

“It’s in the medicine cabinet.”

“...Wha?”

“You put the remote in the medicine cabinet for some fucking reason.” He shooed Ike off with his hand as he walked to his dresser.

A few seconds later, “Shit, why’d I do that?” He walked back to Kyle’s doorway, “And why didn’t you put it back if you knew that?”

“Who cares?” Kyle flatly responded as he zipped up his jeans. He brushed past Ike and opted for mouthwash instead of brushing his teeth, then grabbed a piece of gum from his bag.

“Good morning Bubbie!” his mother greeted.

“Hi, Ma. I’m going to go in early today. Get some extra studying in.”

“Oh, okay. Take some toast with you!”

Kyle grabbed the bread his mom wrapped for him and left, heading straight for the school. Luckily it wasn’t too far, even by walking standards.

He might not be able to save Stan, but someone else might. Kyle was never going to give up on him, and if it meant reaching out to others instead of doing it himself, he was more than willing to do so if it worked.

He sat at their usual spot as he waited for his friends to show up. It was a little relieving; since he was there sooner than usual, he actually got to hear new conversations for once. He felt like he was going a little insane hearing the same conversations over, and over. He got to hear about Craig and Tweek’s date they went on after school – good to know one couple was doing well – and he got to hear firsthand Tolkien tell the story about Clyde whacking himself with the basketball.

When Stan showed up, the normal, repeated conversations began until halfway on their walk to Kyle’s classroom when the loudspeaker called for Stan to go to the front office. He and Kenny looked up at the box, confused. Kyle squeezed Stan’s hand, then told him he better go to the office, then continued to his class with Kenny.

“...Wonder what that’s about,” Kenny said, though he sounded distant.

“It’s what’s good for him,” Kyle responded, trying to keep his voice emotionless.

Stan sure didn’t think it was good for him. Halfway through lunch, he came to the cafeteria right as the group was talking about him being pulled from class. According to Clyde and Craig, who shared classes with him, Stan hadn't shown up in those either, but he had excused absences. They all watched as he walked up, but before they could be nosey and ask, he turned to Kyle, annoyed expression very noticeable.

“Can I talk to you?”

Kyle got up wordlessly, letting Cartman swipe his lunch tray, and followed Stan out of the cafeteria. They walked quietly, the chatter from the cafeteria and outside fading into a murmur. Stan stopped by their lockers and turned around, scowl even more prominent than in front of their friends. “Why did you tell the counselor I’m suicidal?”

“Because I want you to get better, and I thought he could help.”

“All morning, I have had to sit through lectures and videos about suicide prevention, telling me how what I’m feeling is ‘okay’ and how I’m 'special and needed,’ and all that repetitive, stupid shit!”

“It’s important you know that. Now you do, right?” Kyle asked, somewhat hopefully. “That’s why he let you out?”

“No, he let me out so I can go see my friends and see how much they ‘care about and need me.’ After lunch, they’re going to send me right back to that stupid room with my fucking parents so I can listen to my mom sob and dad blow snot in my hair as we ‘talk it out.’” Stan tsked. “Talk it out, yeah, like that’s gonna do buttfuck anything. That’s not how suicidal people think, first of all.”

“Suicidal people think that they’re a burden to those around them and think it would be better for everyone if they weren’t around,” Kyle said, showing he did know. “Which is why it’s important to show you that people care about you and need you!”

Stan cocked a brow at that response. “Don’t know why you know so much that you sound like a textbook definition, but I meant the parent thing. I already have pre-existing issues with my dad; him saying ‘Stan, I love you, don’t kill yourself,’ means nothing because we’ve had that conversation before when he was drunk and we were fighting!”

“You’ve had this conversation before?” Kyle said, voice cracking. That was the first he had heard of that.

“It wasn’t serious, that’s why I never bothered to bring it up,” Stan said dismissively. "Just one of his drunken speeches turned to arguing."

“This is serious, Stan! I know you don’t want to seek or receive help, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself!”

Stan glared at him. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Then why didn’t you at least talk to me about this first instead of the stupid counselor?”

‘I have, but it never works!’ Kyle screamed in his head, but managed to keep it in so he didn’t have to answer any questions about the time loop.

“Because he can give you the help you need,” Kyle settled with instead. The lunch bell rang and Stan groaned when he heard the loudspeaker call him again. “Even if you hate it now, I’m hoping you’ll appreciate it later.”

“Whatever,” Stan said under his breath. “I’ll see you when they eventually call you in to speak.” He walked off to the office.

Kyle let go of the shaky breath he was holding and walked the rest of his way to his last class. Stan called it and he was summoned to the counselor's office about midway through. He grabbed his belongings and entered the room, being greeted by Sharon crying her eyes out, Randy petting Stan’s hair as he kept blaming it on the alcohol, Stan slouched with his arms folded tightly across his chest, and Mr. Mackey across the room at his desk looking like he regretted calling Stan’s parents.

Kyle sat calmly and tried to remain professional and speak his piece and affection. He answered all questions Mr. Mackey asked him honestly, having no shame in admitting how much Stan mattered to him. He had a lot of days to come up with exactly what he thought of Stan and he let it all out in that room. By the time the bell rang to go home, he was still in that room talking about how much Stan meant to him, and when he was released, Stan still looked annoyed at having to be there, but not as cantankerous. Past all the other emotions, he could see affection in Stan’s eyes, too.

The next day Stan picked him up and was quiet during the car ride, apparently still pissed.

“So… Ready for today?” Kyle asked when he couldn’t take the My Chemical Romance anymore.

Stan side-eyed him. “No,” he said flatly. “I have to go straight to the counselors again and talk about a list I was supposed to write.”

“What about?”

“Reasons to stay.”

“How long was it?” Kyle couldn’t help but ask. His heart dropped at Stan’s answer.

“I didn’t make one.”

“Why?!?”

Stan pulled into the school and aggressively parked. “Because I don’t need a fucking paper to tell me what makes me happy. I have a brain to do that.”

They walked in silence, mainly because Kyle didn’t know what to say. Kenny met up with them, and one look at Stan’s face shut him up too.

Before the bell even rang, they heard the announcement over the loudspeaker, calling Stan. He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, slamming his locker closed. He began walking towards the counselor's office, pausing briefly in the middle of the hall before he got too far, and looked over at Kyle. “Good luck on your tests,” he said genuinely before walking off.

Kyle blew through his tests and got to the cafeteria first thanks to the extra time. He sat there anxiously as everyone gathered and stopped Cartman from stealing his lunch or the tray he got for Stan. Stan showed up late again, not very talkative, and picked at his food. Stan purposefully didn’t make eye contact with him the entirety of lunch, not wanting to talk about it in front of the others – even though all of them but Cartman were called in at some point to talk with him. When they threw away their trays and got ready for their next classes, Kyle nudged Stan, finally getting him to look at him.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Kyle sighed and looked at the ground. “I’m just worried about you Stan.”

Stan was quiet, then let out a heavy sigh. “I know. But this was so sudden. Earlier this week you didn’t seem concerned about my mental health at all. What caused the flip in your brain, and why didn’t you talk about it with me first to confirm or deny it?”

“Because that didn’t work,” Kyle admitted.

“You didn’t even try.”

‘God, you don’t even know the half of it,’ Kyle thought, but kept that to himself so he didn’t have to explain the time loop. “I’m sorry if it looks like I don’t care. I haven’t treated you like how a boyfriend should. I’ve seen how you’ve been feeling recently, and I wish I acted sooner, but I can’t lose you, Stan.” Kyle’s eyes started to water. “I can see you need help to get through this.”

A stray tear fell as Kyle remembered all his failed attempts. ‘I’ve tried everything to save you,’ Kyle thought as he looked at the ground and squeezed his eyes shut. The next thought slipped out in a whisper, “But I’m not enough.”

Stan’s expression softened. “Yes, you ar-”

“But I don’t care if I am, that’s not important to me, I just want you to get better. I need you to get better!”

Stan put his hand on Kyle’s cheek, getting him to look up. He wiped a tear that started to fall from Kyle’s left eye. “Don’t blame yourself for anything. I know I’ve been distant recently, but I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Kyle reached up and cupped the back of Stan’s hand with his. He sniffled and smiled at Stan’s soft gaze. “I’m surprised you’re not more mad at me,” Kyle admitted. “I would be giving you the silent treatment if our roles were reversed.”

“The counseling sucks, and I really, really wish we talked about this instead, but I know you only mean well. I appreciate that you care enough even if it’s unnecessary. It's kinda flattering in an annoying way.”

“Are you going to be staying after school again?” Kyle asked.

“Kinda have to.”

Kyle didn’t feel bad since this seemed to be working well; he seemed calmer, not overly joyful like previous Fridays, and he was pretty much always in someone’s sight. “Are you still going to dinner and the festival?”

“I’m not allowed to touch even butter knives right now, my mom tried to baby-feed me dinner and breakfast, and my dad slept in my bed with me last night. I don’t think they’re going to let me out of their sight for a while.”

Okay, that was pretty bad. He felt a little sorry for Stan now.

“I’ll be texting you constantly to keep you posted. You won’t even realize you’re not there yourself.”

Stan smiled. “Sounds good.” Stan turned Kyle around and patted his back. “Now get to class before you get mad at me for ruining your perfect attendance.”

Kyle got through the rest of the day, more relaxed than he had been in weeks. Still not fully relaxed – he wouldn’t be until Stan lived to see Saturday. He texted Stan constantly throughout the rest of the day, and he got pretty speedy responses since Stan was stuck sitting around his house.

Kyle got Kenny to give him a ride to dinner since his car didn’t get fixed, and Stan was still texting back, which was a first, thank fuck. Kyle continued to text him, ignoring the new comments from his friends telling him to stop having phone sex when they were trying to eat. He continued to text Stan on the car ride to the festival, which was where Kyle's texting got more scarce. He still texted Stan when he got the chance or wasn’t distracted, but it became harder to multitask when Kenny pulled out the liquor and everyone cranked up the crazy. Kyle decided to pass on the alcohol, but he was definitely amused by it all. He’d gone to the festival a lot, but he was always distracted and they only got to the drunk stage two or three times.

Kyle enjoyed Jimmy’s jokes and Clyde’s drunken babbling, but he slowly stopped paying attention to everyone the longer Stan left him on delivered.

“Come on, Kyle,” Tolkien said with only a little slur to his words, “put the phone down for a bit and enjoy the festival!”

Kyle only looked at his phone in response.

“I’m sure Stan’s awful sorry he couldn’t be here, but I bet he wouldn’t want you sitting here waiting to hear from him instead of having your own fun,” Butters tried to reassure.

“...Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Kyle put his phone down for a minute and everyone went back to partying.

Stan had responded to him much later than before, and he probably went to bed since he had nothing better to do.

“Hey, Kyle! W-Where are you g-go..g-going?” Jimmy asked, seeing Kyle slowly inching away.

“I’m sorry, I just… gotta check something. I’ll be back... Maybe.” Kyle left before anyone else could comment. He quickly brushed by everyone in the festival and dialed Stan’s number, then Sharon’s when he didn’t answer, and even Randy’s. He shakily put his phone away and got ready to run when none of them answered.

“Kyle!” Kenny called, hurrying to catch up to Kyle as he started to sprint.

“Don’t try and stop me!” Kyle yelled, not slowing.

Kenny caught up and ran alongside him. “I’m coming with you!”

They made eye contact and Kyle could tell Kenny wanted to find Stan just as badly. They both picked up speed, fast enough that the icy wind was whistling in their ears and numbing their faces.

Kyle tried to calm himself and think logically as he got closer to Stark's Pond.

Maybe none of them answered because they were all just busy.

Looking for Stan.

Or asleep!

Forever.

The night was still young. He’s fine. He’s fine.

Even in the dark, Kyle navigated his way through the trees with Kenny following close behind. When he got to the spot, he stopped dead in his tracks, choking on a garbled sob.

There was that familiar position he’d seen so many times from the outline the police made, except this time there was no police tape, but the actual inspiration of it.

“Stan!!” Kyle screamed, sliding to his knees right up to Stan’s chest. It was dark, the only light being from the moon barely coming through the trees. He could only see the black outline of his boyfriend, but Kyle could feel everything. He could feel the blood coat his hands as he put two fingers to his neck, wrist, and chest, trying to find a pulse. Nothing.

He was still warm.

He brought their foreheads together, not caring about ruining his clothes or contaminating the scene. Logic was overtaken by the overwhelming fear and heartbreak. He hiccuped as he grabbed both sides of Stan’s head, limp body not protesting the movement. Kyle shamelessly cried, not caring who saw or heard his misery.

Kyle didn’t hear Kenny walk up to them and also frantically looking for a sign of life, nor the officers that showed up as a result to a distress call hearing a gunshot. Kyle slightly pulled back when he saw the light in the corner of his vision from their flashlights. Kenny put his hands up when they told them to freeze, but Kyle didn’t care, he didn’t move and still held onto Stan.

“He’s our friend. We went looking for him when he wasn’t responding to our messages and calls,” Kenny answered for both of them.

One of the officers - it was hard to see him in the lighting, but a middle-aged man with dark hair, maybe brown - scolded them and tried to get them kicked out, but his teammates turned on him and scolded him back for being inconsiderate; one look at Kyle’s and Kenny’s sorry states was enough to know they weren’t the ones who caused it, and were clearly going through emotional hell.

The police started closing off the area and looking around. They probably asked him some questions, but Kyle didn’t register any of them, nor did he let go of Stan when they tried to get him away from the body. One of the officers kneeled down and softly talked through to Kyle, convincing him to gently lower Stan back into the cold snow. Kenny knelt down and filled the empty space in Kyle’s shaky arms and softly scooted him a little out of the way so the officers could do their jobs.

Kyle still stared at the dark silhouette turned away from the moonlight. He mumbled Stan’s name a few times, body and mind still in shock. He knew it would happen, it had happened over a dozen times already, and although it always made his heart sink, he never was actually there to witness it, and it was so, so much more traumatic, even just seeing black outlines.

One of the officers walked up to Stan’s body. He turned on his flashlight and shone it on him, starting at his feet and the area around it.

Kyle’s eyes widened when he shone it on Stan’s torso and neck. His neck was covered in blood, still fresh and shining in some spots from the light, slowly drying on his jaw and neck or soaked up in his jacket. Kyle let out another broken cry at the scene his eyes couldn’t turn away from. The officer didn’t hear him and continued to observe Stan’s body, moving the light up.

Kenny quickly grabbed the sides of Kyle’s head and forced him to look away right as the flashlight illuminated Stan’s head. Kyle just stared in front of him, eyes wide and breaths coming out in labored wheezes, having the worst panic attack of his life. Kenny’s gloves were as wet as the rest of Kyle’s face as he continued to hold his head there in case Kyle tried to look back at the body. Kenny tried to work Kyle through his panic attack, but that wasn’t really possible when he just saw his boyfriend’s dead body.

Kenny wasn’t doing much better, but he knew he had to be strong for both of them. He held Kyle in place, watching his eyes stare blankly in front of him, and kept him locked in that position until the police covered Stan up with a tarp.

When one of the cops found Stan’s phone and asked if either of them knew the passcode, Kenny took Stan’s phone into his shaky hand and opened it. Kyle looked up and whined, adding a sound to the face Kenny made as they were greeted with Stan’s suicide note. The whole four paragraphs Kyle memorized from hearing Sharon tell him what it said every time, seeing it for the first time, typed out on his notes app.

Kyle zoned out as the policeman read part of it out loud as another officer picked up the bloody gun by the body, and the group deemed the whole thing a suicide. He curled his fingers around Kenny’s arm, probably cutting off his friend’s circulation but Kenny didn't comment on it. The cops finished scoping the area, outlining, covering, and moving Stan, then told them they’d be back in the daylight. They asked and took both their addresses in case they had any more questions, and then they were gone.

They sat there in silence as snow slowly started to fall.

“...We should get inside,” Kenny said in a whisper.

Kyle let go of Kenny’s arm and put his hands in the snow. He willed all the strength left in his body into his hands and arms to pick himself up. He stood and took two shaky steps before his legs gave out and he collapsed in front of their tree. Kyle wrapped his arms around the tree, ignoring any ripping of his skin or clothes, and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out more tears.

“Why, Stan?” he murmured.

Kenny wobbled as he got up and walked over to Kyle. “You’re scratching yourself up,” he stated. He just saw one of his best friends dead and bleeding, he couldn’t take watching Kyle almost kill himself too.

Kyle let go of the tree and leaned back on his feet. He slowly looked up until he was staring at the carved ‘S+K’ encircled by a janky heart to keep the broken bark in place. A symbol of simpler, happier times. Kyle reached up and pulled the wood off, wanting to go back to those days, that feeling of love and bliss and no heartache.

Kyle brought the heart-shaped wood to his head, clenching hard enough the wood cracked. “Make it Thursday,” Kyle brokenly said. “Make this hell end, make him okay. Make it Thursday make it Thursday make it Thursday,” he repeated in a garbled voice as his tears soaked the bark.

When Kyle dislodged the wood, something inside moved with it, and after a gust of wind passed by, it fell down the base of the tree, right by Kyle’s knee. He picked it up, scanning the folded paper. It was too dark to read and he wasn’t willing to let go of the heart he was holding in his other hand to unfold it, so he put it in his pocket, in case it was from Stan. Kyle shakily pulled himself up so he was at eye level with the hole, finding more crumpled papers. He, with Kenny’s help this time, got back up on his feet and took all the papers before they started on their long, emotional walk back into town.

They were silent for the majority of the walk, only talking once, when Kenny looked up from his feet to cross the street and saw the abandoned military airport parking lot. It was an old building that some military veterans turned into a little get-together place.

“What is Stan’s car doing all the way over here? This is like over a mile from the festival, even farther from the forest.”

“I don’t know, that’s really fucking weird. That place was built when they were exporting soldiers. Only veterans go in there nowadays. ” Kyle looked down at the ground. “Maybe one final midnight walk.”

“Or he popped his tire and had to park.” Kenny pointed, and upon further inspection, his front tire, illuminated by the street lamp, definitely looked flat.

That explained why Kyle never found his car in previous loops when he waited to try and stop Stan, he always walked. Little late to know that now. Kyle hiccuped and more tears came out just seeing his car. Kenny wrapped an arm around him, sniffling and crying too, and pushed them further along the road until they got to Kyle’s house.

His parents were in the living room when he opened the front door, ready to scold the living hell out of him for coming home so late and ignoring their phone calls, but when they saw his bloodied clothes and tear-soaked face, they 180’ed and coddled him. They asked what happened, but Kyle’s voice was long gone, soul sucked out and walking around like an empty shell.

Kenny sat in Kyle’s room as his parents cleaned him up, leaving him there until they walked him back to his room. They still had no idea what happened, but they’d find out in about four hours when the Marshs rang the doorbell.

“What did you grab from the tree?” Kenny asked after the silence dragged on.

Kyle’s eyes slowly looked up at Kenny, then slowly down at his fresh shirt. His parents must have thought his jacket was a goner and tossed it, so Kenny grabbed the papers while they were treating Kyle’s wounds and put them on Kyle’s nightstand.

With no emotion, Kyle grabbed the papers, unfolded them, and skimmed through them. Kenny sat on his bed and looked at them too, also staring at them confused. They were all soiled with his and Stan’s blood, but from the bits they could make out, they weren’t notes written by Stan. In fact, it didn’t seem like it had anything to do with him. They were just a mixture of contracts, interviews, and newspaper clippings. Someone probably put them there who knows how long ago; the papers looked a little old and shoving useless scrap in a random tree sounded like something a junkie would do.

Still, Kyle picked them up and clutched them to his chest, associating them with the last thing relating to Stan, even if it had nothing to do with him. His arm turned pink as his fresh tears started to mix with the dried blood on the paper and rolled down his arm. Kenny hugged Kyle tightly, and they both sat there in misery until the same beginning of Saturday started to play out. Kyle stared at his wall for hours, trying to think of what went wrong, what he could do next, but he kept seeing Stan’s body. He tried to shake it off, reminding himself Stan would be back and alive in 12 more hours.

“God, let it be over,” Kyle mumbled, grabbing harshly at his curls.

Kyle’s bed lifted as Kenny got up, not that Kyle looked up to see it. His breathing got erratic again as another wave of emotion hit. For a split second, the aching pain Kyle felt in his heart shifted to his head, then his alarm started to ring.

Kyle stared at the ceiling as his alarm continued to blare in the quiet room. His breathing was rapid as he turned his head slowly and continued to stare blankly at the screaming device. He reached out and gingerly turned it off, then promptly threw up in his bedside trash can.

Kyle grunted as he put the trash can back down on the floor and flopped back down on his back, covering his head with his hands. He flinched violently when the image of Stan in the snow flashed through his head. Kyle turned on his stomach and let a few more silent tears shed as Ike barged into his room, took the remote, and left, not noticing Kyle’s turmoil. He remained lying in his bed, unable to find the strength to move.

“Kyle!” his mother shouted repeatedly as she got closer to his door. “What are you doing? You’re going to be late for school!” When he didn’t respond, she went up and took the covers off of him. “You have a busy week, come on!” Kyle just muttered incoherent words and Sheila pinched his cheeks. “Come on, Bubbie, I made you some breakfast, that’ll get you moving.”

Kyle wasn’t sure he could even walk, much less stomach anything for the next two loops. Sheila still forced Kyle to get up, rushing him and scolding him when they heard Stan honk to alert them of his arrival. He picked up his step when he heard Stan and stumbled into the passenger seat.

“Hey, dude,” Stan greeted, not looking up from his phone. He queued a few songs before putting it down and looking at Kyle, and his expression changed to worried in a nanosecond. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle was just staring at him with a face he had never seen Kyle make, and he could go his whole life never seeing it again. He looked tired, pale, and eyes puffy. He looked like he was about to either throw up, pass out, burst into tears, or somehow all of the above simultaneously. Stan reached over and put a tender hand on his cheek.

The second his hand made contact, Kyle reached up and squeezed it, letting Stan’s cold hand soak the warmth from his cheek and hand. “...Long night,” he finally managed to say.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Stan would have thumbed Kyle’s cheek, but Kyle's hold on the back of his hand kept all of his fingers squeezed together.

“No,” Kyle quickly said. He closed his eyes and squeezed Stan’s hand harder. “I just want to wash it out of my memory.”

Stan leaned over the center console, cupping Kyle’s face with both hands and gave him a long, chaste kiss. He leaned back and freaked out when he saw Kyle crying as a result.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean-!..Um…!” He shifted, not sure what he did to tip Kyle over the edge or how to help him feel better.

Kyle sat forward and tried to take deep, long breaths. “I’m o-okay.” They sat in his driveway as Kyle composed himself. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” he mumbled to himself. He looked over at Stan, forcing a smile. “We can get going now.”

“Um… You have both my hands still.”

Kyle looked down, noticing he did in fact, have both of Stan’s hands clutched in his, pulled up to his chest. He wasn’t sure how Stan was so calm about it, because he was holding fucking tight. He immediately let go and apologized.

Kyle looked down at his lap as Stan reversed out of his driveway and put the car back into drive. He choked on silent hiccups and and his eyes burned despite his earlier declaration that he was okay. Once on the road, Stan offered his hand again, only needing one to drive. Kyle glanced at it, then quietly took it, pressing it against his chest again until they were in the school parking lot. Reluctantly, he let go so they could get out of the car, but Stan offered it again once out, and Kyle accepted it eagerly.

Kyle stared at Stan’s hand blankly the entire time, ignoring their friends and letting Stan guide him when the bell rang. He looked up when Stan stopped, realizing they had arrived at the door of Kyle’s first period class. Kyle hadn’t even realized they left the courtyard.

“Kyle,” Stan asked softly. Kyle looked at him, and Stan could see in his eyes how sad and scared he was. “Ky,” he reached over and cupped his cheek. “What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? Are you okay?”

Kyle looked at him with wide, glassy green eyes. “Are you?”

Stan reeled back, taken aback by the question. He looked to the side, then smiled somberly. “...I will be. Soon.” He looked back at Kyle, forcing a bright smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

As Kyle looked back at him, at Stan’s physically and mentally tired face, he realized something. Or perhaps, finally accepted something.

He was looking at Stan, a very alive Stan, but every time he closed his eyes, the image of Stan’s limp body and bloodied torso burned behind his eyelids. He was alive and looking at him now, but in that snow, that was also him. Always was and always would be since Kyle couldn’t stop him.

For the first time, hopelessness started to set in.

Chapter Text

Kyle didn’t bother to get a lunch tray that time; even just the sight of food was making him nauseous. He thought about ditching lunch altogether, but he really wanted to see Stan. It hurt to see him, but it was worse being away.

When he sat down, he let Cartman bash him with no comment back. He didn’t have the will or energy to.

Stan was obviously concerned for him, but Kyle refused to tell him since he was technically the reason, knowing that would probably lead him to off himself a day earlier. Why couldn’t Stan care more about himself than Kyle for once? How could he not realize the best thing for Kyle was him?

He still tried to help Kyle, and the redhead noticed him attempting methods similar to the ones he himself did at the beginning of the time loop, like giving him his space or telling him how much he cared about him. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so fucking sad.

There was only so much Stan could do in the short time lunch allowed him. He offered to ditch if Kyle would like him to, but Kyle shook his head. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, since he couldn’t have the one thing he truly wanted.

Nothing could have prepared Kyle for the added mental torture that was hearing the same boring lectures over and over, knowing the clock was ticking before Stan was gone again. Bound to be forever one of these times. It was the cruelest of jokes the universe could ever pull, making him watch the person he cares about the most die over and over again and giving him hope the next time would be different, only to have his soul ripped out every time.

He got up and left the classroom, not even bothering to pick up his backpack or respond to the teacher yelling at him to sit back down. He walked through the empty hallways and up the stairs, climbing areas that weren’t meant to be climbed until he got on the roof of the school, a place he and his group went to when they wanted to get away from everyone else. He sat on the side, staring out as a numbness overcame him again.

“First time I’ve seen you up here.”

Kyle slowly turned and watched as Kenny walked up to him. He lowered his hood and sat right next to Kyle, letting the wind blow through his messy blond locks.

“I come up here all the time. We all do,” Kyle said, emotionless.

“Yeah, but not this week. But you’re at a loss, now, too, aren’t you?” He paused, and for a moment it seemed like they’d just sit there in silence until the bell rang to go home. “...That’s why I’m up here. It’s a lot harder seeing it in person than being told, huh?”

Kyle stared at Kenny in surprise, but his friend continued to look out in front of him. “You… You know? You’re aware too??”

Kenny nodded. “Thought it was just me. You gave me pause though, sometimes, but last night confirmed it for me. Sorry about knocking you out, by the way. I couldn’t stand seeing you like that.”

“No, honestly, thank you. I don’t know if I would have retained my sanity if you didn’t. I’m hardly keeping it together as it is.” He turned to Kenny. “Do you know why this is happening?”

“I have a theory.” He looked at Kyle. “Do you remember how I told you I die all the time?”

Yeah, he remembers that spiel. “And that you always come back but we don’t remember you dying?”

“I died on the first loop. After Stan died, I got hit by a car because I wasn’t looking and just walked across the street. I was too busy wishing it was me since I would come back. Then I came back and he was back too. I wonder if Stan’s death mixed with my immortality triggered it. Not that I can prove that. And I have no idea where you come into the loop either.”

“So you think the loop is caused by Stan?”

“That’s my best guess.” He closed his eyes and chuckled dryly, “Or maybe it’s what I want to believe since it’s been my main focus instead of trying to find a way out of the loop.”

“You and me both.” Kyle joined Kenny in staring out in front of them. “I always thought you were being an ass and trying to fool us into believing you die all the time, but after all this, even if I don’t remember it, I think I’m starting to believe you.” Kyle looked at Kenny, glaring at him. “You better not turn around and say you finally got me.”

Kenny smiled. “No, I’m not Cartman.” He brought his gaze downward, frowning. “I have always wanted you guys to remember me dying. I killed myself on purpose sometimes to try and get you to. Part of me wanted others to recognize the pain I went through every time I got impaled or drowned. But after… that, now I’m really glad nobody does. I wish I could forget it. I want to wipe it from my brain so fucking bad, and I only saw it once.”

Kyle brought his knees up. “I still see it. Him lying there. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Kenny smiled at him, trying to be optimistic. “That’s not true. If anyone can get through to Stan, it’s you.”

“I’ve tried everything, Kenny!” Kyle buried his face in his knees. “But nothing works… I can’t help him…” he mumbled.

Kenny let out a soft laugh through his nose. “After lunch, he came to me, asking if I knew what was bothering you or if I could help you since he couldn’t. You guys really are meant for each other.” He wrapped an arm around Kyle's back. “He cares a lot about you Kyle. You can’t give up on him now. He needs all the support we can give him. Now that we know we’re both in this, we can come up with something together.”

Kyle looked up at Kenny’s determined face. “We’re going to get through this. All of us. Whether he likes it or not,” Kenny finished.

Kyle laughed sadly and leaned against Kenny. “God, this fucking sucks.”

“Yeah, it really fucking does.”

Kyle tried to be optimistic, for Stan’s sake, but it was almost near impossible when his mind kept bringing back that awful image of him on the ground all bloodied and limp. He internally thanked Kenny for making him look away before he saw Stan’s face. He probably would never recover if he saw that. Unfortunately, nobody else was there to turn Kenny’s head, and Kyle could tell it was getting to him, too.

Kyle hoped a little time might be the key, but the next day unfolded just like the previous one, and Kyle didn’t have the luxury of waiting for his psyche to heal enough. Kyle was hardly holding it together even when Stan was sitting right next to him, and he already knew he was going to be a fucking mess all over again after the festival. Just being on day two freaked him out so much that Stan had to get out of his car to drag Kyle out of his house and to his class in time to take his tests.

Kyle ended up scribbling on his tests instead of answering them. If time wasn’t going to inevitably reset, his teacher would have most likely called him up on Monday and sent him to the insane asylum himself.

At the end of the school day, Kyle was slumped over by where the goth kids smoked, pulling at his hair. He had the whole day and still couldn’t talk to Stan without getting choked up or snapping at him for being ‘happy’ (followed with sorrys and muffled sobs).

He felt so utterly useless as the seconds ticked by. He was sitting there because he couldn’t even hold himself together to have a conversation with Stan. Resulting in another failure.

He didn’t look up when a shadow loomed over him.

“Dude, you’re sitting with the goth kids now? Isn’t that my bit? What the fuck are you doing?” Stan sighed and grabbed under Kyle’s arms, forcing him to his feet. His frown deepened as Kyle refused to look up from the ground. “School’s over, let’s get you home.”

They were quiet as they walked to Stan’s car. Kyle cursed to himself as he shut the passenger door, remembering that he was supposed to remind Stan to change his car battery at lunch. He rotated his head as he heard Stan shut his door.

“Kyle,” Stan said, beating him to it, “you have been miserable all day today and yesterday and have refused help from everyone.”

Kyle looked away, unable to look into Stan’s piercing eyes. “I’ve just been going through a lot.” His eyes widened and he backtracked, “Not that you haven’t! I’m sure you’ve been battling your own demons.”

Stan continued to stare at him for a few moments, making Kyle shrink into his seat. He turned and started the car wordlessly and started leaving the school.

Kyle’s anxiety raised, afraid he made Stan mad. “I’m sorry.”

Stan raised a brow. “What for? You don’t need to be sorry when there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Kyle was about to apologize again when he noticed Stan turn left instead of right. It didn’t take him long to realize they were on their way to Stan’s house and not his. “...What are we doing?”

Stan parked in the driveway and unclipped his seatbelt. “I’m not leaving you alone in this state.” He walked around and opened the passenger door, grabbing Kyle’s hand and walking him up to his room.

Kyle sat on Stan’s bed as he shut his door.

Stan wheeled his desk chair by his bed and took a deep breath as he sat down next to Kyle. He cupped Kyle’s chin to force him to look at him. “Kyle. Something is obviously eating you up. You keep saying you’re fine when you’ve been nothing but miserable the past two days. I can tell something’s killing you inside.”

Ironic choice of words.

“You always tell me to open up and tell you how I feel. Even if it’s the lamest, stupidest thing to get upset about, you’re always there to comfort me. That you’ll always be with me no matter what. Well, I’m always here for you, too.

“Right now, I’m asking you to do the same. Please tell me what’s wrong. I can’t go on watching you suffer like this.”

Kyle could see the ascertainment mixed with terror in Stan’s bright blue eyes. Normally he could stare at them for hours. He looked down as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“...I’ve had this nightmare,” Kyle shakily said. Stan stayed quiet, giving him his full attention. “You killed yourself in it.”

Stan moved his hand from Kyle’s chin to his hand. “It was just a bad dream, baby. I’m right here.”

Kyle shook his head and looked down at the mattress. “I tell myself that, too. But… I keep having it. Every night. And each time, I know it’s going to happen, and no matter what, I can’t stop you. Every time, it doesn't feel like it’s just a dream, it feels too real. I keep waking up thinking you’re going to do it.” Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and didn’t try and hold back the tears that time. “You are the most important thing to me. I can’t live without you.”

He squeezed Stan’s hands in his and looked at Stan’s blurry face, “I know you’re depressed, and I’m so fucking sorry I haven’t been a better boyfriend, but please! Please don’t leave me! I’ll give you space! I’ll never leave you alone! Whatever you want! Just please…” Kyle choked on a sob. “Please don’t kill yourself… please.”

Stan was quiet, letting Kyle speak until he was nothing but a heap of sobs, unable to get anything but broken ‘pleases’ out. He knew whatever he said wouldn’t calm Kyle, and softly pulled his hands out of Kyle’s grasp. He rolled up his sleeves and put Kyle’s hands back in his.

Kyle sniffled as he blinked through his tears and felt the smooth skin of Stan’s wrists. It wasn’t broken, rough, not even a single scar. He traced his fingers all the way up Stan’s arms, and Stan rolled up his sleeves as Kyle reached higher so he could see as well as feel. Apart from some scars that he already knew existed, there wasn’t a single cut on either arm.

Before Kyle could spiral into reasons that smooth arms didn’t mean much – he’s cutting elsewhere or cutting isn’t the only sign – Stan sat back and scooted his desk chair across the room.

Kyle wiped his eyes with his sleeve as Stan opened one of his desk drawers, fishing something out before walking back to the bed and sitting next to Kyle. He grabbed Kyle’s hand again and opened his palm.

Kyle sniffled again and raised his hand to see what Stan had put in it. “Your antidepressants?” Stan nodded silently. The bottle rattled as Kyle rotated it, and his eyes narrowed as he found the cause of the sharp sound. There were only three pills left in it, one even broken into a few pieces. Kyle looked up at Stan, full of desperation. “You need more? I can go to the store right now! I can get you even stronger ones, too! I could probably get my dad to-”

“What’s in the bottle is not what I want you to look at.”

Kyle looked at Stan through confused, wet eyes, and Stan twisted it until the label was facing up at him. He got the message and brought it closer to his face to read all the small print. The room was silent as his brows furrowed and he held it inches from his face, rereading part of it. “The refill date is over 13 months ago.” He lowered his hand until it hit the comforter. “You never got it refilled?”

Stan smiled earnestly. “Didn’t need to. I don’t need them anymore. Haven’t for a while.” Kyle looked back at the bottle in shock as Stan wrapped an arm around him and scooted him to his side. “I’m happy. Really. All I need is you, not some pills.” He kissed Kyle. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Kyle dropped the bottle and hugged Stan tightly. Stan let his back rest against his headboard and rubbed circles into Kyle’s back as he let him cry into his chest. Kyle started to calm down, relaxing into Stan as the other continued to whisper sweet nothings and rub his scalp and back even when Kyle had stopped crying. He slipped his arms under Stan’s jacket and gripped his shirt. “Stay with me tonight?” he mumbled. “Fuck the festival, just be with me please?”

Stan looked away for a moment, thinking, then softened his gaze at Kyle. “Of course. Anything for you,” he said, rubbing Kyle’s cheek.

Kyle didn’t let go of Stan the rest of the night, and Stan never asked him to. They ate shitty snacks and watched even shittier movies as the festival went on without them, and for the first time since the loop started, Kyle fell asleep curled up in Stan’s arms and got a full night of rest.

When Kyle woke up in the morning, he flinched and moved to grab his phone to call Stan and see if he was alright, but paused when he felt a familiar pressure around his side and back. He turned his head and saw Stan still sleeping behind him. Kyle carefully shifted around so he was facing Stan, watching his peaceful form; his breathing was soft and steady, and he stirred slightly at Kyle’s movement. Kyle reached up and lightly rubbed behind Stan’s ear, earning him a soft hum.

Kyle smiled and buried his face in Stan’s neck. Stan fully awoke not too long after, hugging Kyle tighter.

“..Morning,” he rasped out, knowing Kyle was already awake. “How did you sleep?”

Kyle picked himself up on his elbows and smiled. “Really well.”

Stan smiled back. He moved his arm off of Kyle to sit up and stretch. “Did you have that nightmare last night?”

Kyle moved so he could sit on Stan’s lap. “No. Thank God… I really thought I would.”

Stan leaned back on the pillows and Kyle followed him so they were lying chest to chest. “Good. You look a lot better today.” He pecked Kyle on the lips. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad I could put your fears to rest.”

Kyle connected their lips again, much more passionately. Until his phone had to fucking ruin it. He let go with a loud smack and Stan laughed as Kyle aggressively swiped his phone off the nightstand and read the offending notification. “Ugh, my parents want me to move the car.”

“Why can’t they do it? Oh, shit, I was supposed to help you change the battery yesterday!”

“Eh, who cares about a dumb car?” His phone pinged again.

“Your parents, apparently,” Stan chuckled. “Come on, we can migrate to your house and I can change it now.”

Kyle whined, sad that they had to postpone their cuddling. “Alright.”

“Stan!” Randy yelled, followed by the door flinging open. “Stan, I need you to-” he looked at his son lying with Kyle on top of him. “Are you boys using a condom?”

“Dad!”

“You need to be safe. I know all about this stuff, Stan.”

“We’re not having sex, dad!”

“Oh.”

“What do you want?” Stan said angrily as Kyle got off him, embarrassed.

“I need you to go to the store and get more propane gas for the grill and fireplace.”

“You don’t use propane for an electric fireplace!”

“Well, we still need propane for the grill tonight with your aunt coming into town, and your mother and I are busy!” He tossed a roll of cash onto Stan’s bed.

“But I’m going over to Kyle’s.”

“It’ll take five minutes, Stanley.” He closed the door so Stan couldn’t argue.

Stan rolled his eyes. “‘It’ll take five minutes, Stanley,’” Stan said in a mocking voice. “So why can’t you fucking do it?” he mumbled as he slipped on a shirt. He looked over at Kyle as he fixed the hem of his shirt. “How pissed are your parents?”

Kyle looked at his phone. “Still lower case and they haven’t called yet. I got some time.”

“Alright, I’ll get the stupid gas and we can go. I’ll be right back.”

“I can go with you.”

“I saw you eyeing the shower, you’re allowed to wash up. I think I still have some of your shampoo and soap products in there.”

“You sure?”

Stan nodded. “After the rough couple days you’ve had, I just want you to relax.” He straightened the cuffs of his jacket and kissed Kyle’s cheek. “Now go get squeaky clean and relax till I get back.”

Kyle listened to Stan’s footsteps down the stairs, followed by the front door opening. He sighed, a smile still on his face. It was Saturday. And Stan was still alive. And happy. Stan said he wanted Kyle relaxed and happy when he came back, but he already was. He did still want to shower though.

He grabbed his phone and shot Kenny a text as he walked to the bathroom, letting him know Stan was alright. He closed the door, not looking away from his phone as he pulled up some music to play in the background before turning the shower knob.

Kyle took a long, hot shower, and holy fuck did he need that. He was definitely in there longer than he meant to be, but he felt much better as he stepped out and put his hair in a towel. He quickly got dressed with the spare clothes he kept at Stan’s house and exited the bathroom.

He entered Stan’s room but was surprised to find it empty. Strange. He checked his phone. He was in the bathroom for like thirty minutes, he was sure Stan would be back by now. He went downstairs, wondering if he was talking to his mom or arguing with his dad, but his mother was busy working on a puzzle while his dad was messing with the new electrical fire he didn’t know how to use, mumbling about Stan assisting him when he got back.

What was taking him so long? Kyle’s stomach started to clench.

No, no, Stan was fine and wouldn’t go and ki-

In the distance, Kyle heard faint sirens. He slipped his shoes on incorrectly and sprinted out the door. He ran towards the store at full speed, screeching to a halt at the bridge between the store and Stan’s house. A crowd had already formed around the area, barely being pushed away by the police and caution tape. Kyle pushed past them and up to the yellow tape. The snow was scuffed from all the people and action, but he focused on one of the dead trees that had… a dented propane tank by it.

Kyle pushed past the caution tape, fighting the cops who tried to stop him. One of the officers recognized Kyle and let him pass, knowing he had relations with the victim. Kyle was in shock at the whole situation, barely registering the story that they were telling him.

He jumped off, unable to take the pressure anymore. All the people around were gossiping about it, saying how sad and young he was and how they needed to work on increasing suicide prevention.

Kyle silently walked over to the propane tank and picked it up with shaky hands. He tried to fight back the tears as he stepped back.

He didn’t understand. Why? He promised he was fine and wouldn’t kill himself!

One of the officers, the brunette that was eyeing him earlier and the one who yelled at him and Kenny the previous time, walked up to him and told him to hand him the propane tank, yelling at him not to touch anything else and contaminate it. Another officer came over, again, one of his colleagues from that awful night, and scolded her partner, telling him to be considerate since Kyle was clearly grieving. Kyle looked to the side when they started to bicker, and he caught sight of something. He moved his arms, letting the officer take the tank, and when he heard their footsteps get farther away, he knelt down and dug through the snow.

Kyle picked up Stan’s phone, brushing off the sticking snow. He slowly rubbed his thumb against the newly cracked screen, then turned it on. He stared at the lit screen, dazed as he looked at the SOS that greeted him. He hesitantly swiped it away and swiped until he found the notes app. He opened it, but it was empty.

Kyle looked at the cracked screen, confused. There was nothing there. The newest note was over a year ago, some joke Stan thought was funny and didn’t want to forget.

Kyle felt like he was going to throw up.

“Kyle!” Kenny shouted from a distance. The cops let him by too, and he ran up to the side, looking down at the flowing water below. He went pale.

“No…” Kenny breathed out, watching the flowing water down below as one of the cops pulled him away from the edge. He walked over to the tree Kyle was at and punched it at full force. “FUCK!!” He rested his head against the tree. “I could have sworn you got through to him when you said he made it through the night.”

“No,” Kyle said, voice monotone. “It doesn’t matter, when, or where.” He looked over at the cop and the propane tank. The man moved, tilting the dent so it was covered by his body, hiding the blood splotch from view.

“Kenny. I don’t think Stan’s killing himself.” He looked at the cop’s smirk as he talked to his colleague.

“I think he’s being murdered.”

Chapter Text

“I think he’s being murdered.”

”...What?”

Kyle shoved Stan’s phone into his pocket and kept his gaze down. “Don’t tell them anything.”

Kenny looked at the cops, then back at Kyle, moving to a whisper. “...But… he’s been so depressed. I don’t want to believe he’d take his own life either, but-”

“Trust me,” Kyle interrupted. “You didn’t see him last night.”

Some of the officers came over again to comfort them and ask a few questions. Kenny looked at Kyle, but followed his instructions and didn’t say anything, letting Kyle mumble a few basic responses until they left them alone. 

Kyle’s parents picked them up and tried to comfort him through their own sorrows, giving Kyle an opportunity to sneak by them as they wept and went down to their basement with Kenny in tow. 

Once they were alone, Kenny spoke up. “What did you mean back there? What could have happened last night that changed your whole perspective after months of witnessing his suicide?”

“He said he wasn’t suicidal.”

Kenny looked at Kyle like he was nuts. “And you believe him? We’ve seen him kill himself over a dozen times, just now, and just because he said he wouldn’t, you accept that??”

Kyle shook his head violently. “It wasn’t just him saying it. It was how he said it, what he did!... How he went out…” He tried to push down the dread and sadness that came up.

“Kyle-” 

“Think about it! Why would he change his MO? Why did none of our collective attempts work? We keep doing the same thing and expect different results. Maybe the problem isn’t that we’re not trying hard enough, but we’re focusing on the wrong thing!”

Kenny stood in silence, taking it in. “...Stan’s recent depressive state seems like there’s no other reason… but from day one, I thought – knew that if anyone could save him from himself, it would be you.” He took in a deep breath. “You’re right. Something doesn’t add up, but who would want to hurt him? Much less kill him.”

“I… don’t know. That first cop that talked to us seemed off, like he was trying to hide the possibility it was a murder, but I have nothing else on him.” 

“That doesn’t tell us much, unfortunately,” Kenny said, disappointed as well. “This is South Park Police we’re talking about. A murder means they have to investigate it; a suicide is pretty open and shut and they’re done for the week. I wouldn't put it past some asshole cops to pretend to not see evidence for their own laziness.”

Kyle walked over to the large meeting table in the middle of the room and put down Stan’s phone. “Evidence or not, we’re going to find this fucker. If it’s the last thing I do.”

“I’m with you, 100%,” Kenny said, walking up to his side. “Where do we start?”

“We start by stating what we already know. A storyboard would be really useful for this.” Kyle turned to the empty billboard they could use in normal circumstances. “But any physical thing we write or hang up will be gone by the end of the day. Printing out shit would be a waste of time.”

“So let's not print shit. If we’re going to reset anyway, who cares if we tack up some photos?”

Kyle nodded, and they both temporarily split to grab anything and everything they thought could possibly help. They hunkered down in Kyle’s basement, not being disturbed even once; Kyle’s family assumed they were grieving – which they were, in a different, more vengeful way. 

By dinner time, they had not just the billboard but the entire wall covered with photos or crudely drawn pictures of things or people they didn’t have a photo of. They ignored their stomachs and continued to brainstorm; they’d be less hungry when they reset.

“This makes no fucking sense!” Kenny said, rubbing roughly at his eyes. “Out of our whole grade, Stan is the one with the least amount of enemies. He’s a peace lover, who would he have pissed off so badly that they’d want to kill him? You don’t have a crazy ex I don’t know about, do you?”

“No. And I hang out with him almost every day and not even I can think of someone who has a vendetta against him.” Kyle took a deep breath. “Okay. Maybe we need to turn our thinking around. Instead of who would want to kill him, why would someone kill him?” Kyle walked up to the wall, following the black Sharpie line connecting their drawn picture of the tree with their initials and then another that led to the bridge they were at earlier, both connected to Stan’s cracked phone in the center of the wall. “We know that this wasn’t situational. He wouldn’t have died today if it was. Someone was after him and went out of their way to get rid of him. That means it’s someone who knows him.” Kyle backtracked some more. “We also know that this happens during the festival.”

“Which means it can’t be anyone we’ve seen there. Good to know it’s not our friends, I guess. So we need to think about who we haven’t seen.”

“Assuming either of us even knows who the assailant is.”

Kenny tapped his chin. “You said they know him, so the chances are that Stan knows them back. He’s never mentioned anyone who stuck out as a red flag?”

“No. Maybe a rant here or there, but never crazy enough to murder.” Kyle squinted, then cursed under his breath as he angrily kicked the closest chair to him. “I want to put more on that cop. I know it’s probably nothing and you're right that this town sucks, but call it retribution for daring to cover up Stan’s justice. When we find this person, I'm taking that cop down with him or her.” 

Kenny stared at the wall of shit strung up, mind going blank. He rubbed his temples. “This is a lot to take in at once. How did we not think of this earlier?”

“Because there’s still a lot of holes in this theory and his depression seemed pretty cut and dry,” Kyle said flatly, still staring at the wall, trying to find anything they missed.

“I thought you said he wasn’t depressed?”

“Yeah… he’s not.” Kyle looked down in thought. 

“Then why did he act like it?”

“What if it wasn’t depression?” Kyle grabbed a Sharpie and started writing on the wall by one of the larger photos of Stan they placed in the middle, above his phone. “He wasn’t depressed, but something was obviously bothering him,” Kyle mumbled as he wrote what he said. “He isolated himself…”

“He was kind of jumpy,” Kenny added. Kyle added paranoid to the list. 

They both stared at the new word. “...He was paranoid.” Kenny reiterated. “...He knew. Or at least knew something was up. Maybe he does know who it is.”

Kyle’s heart stung at the thought Stan knew he was in danger. “...Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t know. Guess we’re gonna find out when we ask him tomorrow.”

“No, Stan tells me everything. If he hasn’t mentioned it yet, it’s something big, and he’ll deny anything if we just go and ask him.”

“What got him so freaked? He’s strong-minded and he doesn’t scare easily. And he’s not really one to be afraid to ask for help. Especially when it would cause him that much distress. He’s never afraid to talk to one of us, unless he physically couldn’t, like that time Cartman drugged him and he couldn’t make out a clear sentence. Still can’t believe Cartman did that; Stan could have been fucking raped if we didn’t pull him away from those creepy strangers.”

Kyle made a face at the memory of Stan being helpless and Cartman laughing at him as he clearly didn’t want to talk to the people ‘getting friendly’ with him. He shook the memory out of his head and paid attention back to the situation at hand. “Stan and I know everything about each other; his secret drawer where he hides things he stole from his sister, my habit of biting my pencil, I’ve even seen his dad’s penis on multiple occasions-”

“-the whole town has, honestly-”

“-he’s seen some of my dad’s cases, even one… that…” Kyle walked up to the board, eyes darting around until his eyes fell onto the Broflovski family portrait he hung up. “...is classified. One he couldn’t tell anyone about.”

“What’s the case?”

“Something about a corrupt company. Not even I know much about it, but my dad told Stan about it. Told him how important it was that Stan didn’t tell anyone, or the case would be in jeopardy.” He looked over at the drawing of the tree again. “...Those papers in the tree…”

“They were documents and articles, nothing but a bunch of mumbo jumbo. At least, I thought so when we looked at it.”

They both ran out of the house and all the way to Stark's Pond and Kyle walked them to the familiar tree. For once the area was in a peaceful state. He took the chunk of wood that had their initials off and put his hand in the hole. “...It’s empty.” He dropped his hands to his sides as Kenny reached in, touching every crevice inside to confirm there was nothing inside, not even a nest or ants. “Stan did put those papers there. But I kept him from doing so this time.”

“Kyle, I think we found the info we need to get Stan to talk.”

Kyle nodded absentmindedly. They walked back to his house and continued to try and fish out any last-minute information before all their work was erased, but Kyle’s mind and heart weren’t in the rest of the investigation. He was busy repeating the same thing. Stan was getting killed because of him. Getting killed for him. 

He was going to save him back. 

----

Ike reached for Kyle’s doorknob, jumping back when the door flung open and Kyle came stomping out. Kyle shoved his TV remote in Ike’s still-extended hand and continued downstairs, giving one holler that he was going over to Kenny’s before class and shutting the front door. 

Kenny was already pulling up to his house. They checked the supplies they were able to grab, and then Kenny drove them to Stark’s Pond and they went up to the tree, confirming the hole was in fact empty on Thursday too. Kenny parked in the empty parking lot as Kyle texted Stan that he hitched a ride with Kenny and they hid themselves in one of the dusty meeting rooms in the basement everybody pretty much forgot existed. They set up some of what they figured out the previous day, making it much cleaner now that they had string, the school printer, and a better understanding of the situation (hopefully). 

Kyle paid attention to the time and left the room right at the exact time Stan walked up to their normal meeting spot. He hugged him and pulled him to the side, observing him. “We need to talk,” Kyle said, grabbing Stan’s wrist and pulling him away from nosey ears. 

“What did I do?”

“Not that kind of talk. I’m not mad. At you.”   

Once they were a safe distance away from the group, Kyle turned to face Stan. 

“...What did you want to talk about?” Stan asked when Kyle hesitated. 

“I wanted to talk about my dad’s case.”

Stan's eyes widened and he looked around, making sure nobody was in ear range or looking at them. “I thought we’re not really supposed to talk about that,” Stan said, his voice low even though nobody was close to them. 

“Nobody’s listening.” Stan looked around nervously anyway. “What all do you know about the case? I know my dad talked to you separately.”

Stan’s eyes still darted around them. “That they’re investigating Horizon Enterprises, but they’re trying to keep it on the down-low so they can keep the edge on them,” he mumbled. 

“And?”

Stan gulped and looked away, again at passersby. “And what? That’s all he really told us. It’s still a classified case, and we already know more than we probably should.”

“What else did he tell you when he took you aside?”

“Nothing, really.”

“Stan.”

The bell rang, and Stan straightened. “That’s the bell! We should be getting to class!” 

Stan turned Kyle around, ignoring his protests. “Stan! You’re not telling me something!”

“It’s not our problem, it’s your dad’s. Right now, you need to focus on your tests!”

Stan pushed Kyle to his class, ignoring his arguments. He dropped Kyle off and immediately dipped to his own classroom before Kyle could ask again. 

Kyle huffed. Stan definitely knew something, and Kyle was now sure that case had to do with Stan’s death. Just as expected, he was dodging questions instead of shrugging them off nonchalantly like he normally would and had done in the past when first told about the case. It was just like how he expected Stan to act if he asked about his paranoia, so he was positive they were connected. Unfortunately, Kyle needed to get Stan to admit to knowing more about the case so he could use that as leverage to get him to open up about his paranoia. 

Kyle ditched his class and went back down to the basement. Kenny had finished setting up their wall while he was gone, and Kyle filled him in. While classes continued, they thought of ways to talk to Stan and hopefully get him to cooperate.

When the lunch bell rang, Kyle tried again. He showed up with Kenny, both not bothering to get shitty cafeteria food. 

“Here comes the thundercunt,” Cartman said as they got close to the table. 

Kyle’s fists clenched; God, if he had to hear that stupid insult one more fucking time, he might get suspended for assaulting another student. Time loop or not, it would be worth it; he bet even the teachers would be patting him on the back as they suspended him. 

Kyle took a slow breath out and ignored him, instead focusing on his boyfriend. “Stan.”

Stan looked up at him from his seat. His eyes widened, recognizing that determined look. “Wh-? Not here!” he whispered. “Have you gone mad??”

“I just might have!” Kyle said, pulling at his arm. 

“Oooh, lover’s quarrel!” Cartman yelled.

“Shut up, fatass!” They both yelled in unison. 

“We can’t talk about that here! Your dad will kill us!”

Kyle squinted at him. “Fine,” he said flatly, and plopped down on the bench by Stan. When the group continued on like nothing happened, he jabbed at Stan’s side with two fingers. Stan flinched, but kept quiet, acting like Kyle hadn’t poked him and engaging in the conversation when talked to. Kyle continued to poke him aggressively with one hand, then started to use his other to spam Stan’s phone with messages. Kyle could tell by the eye twitch that the mix of his jabbing and the constant buzzing on Stan’s other side was starting to annoy him. He held out for a long while, but nearing the thirty-minute mark, Stan got up and excused them. Kyle happily followed him into the hallway, even when Stan stared back at him, vexed. 

“Why are you so persistent to talk about this? Can’t this wait until we’re not at school??”

“Will I get a different answer if we were not at school?” Stan didn’t respond, meaning no, he wouldn’t. “I’m not going to stop bugging you until you tell me what my dad told you. Or asked of you.”

Stan’s eyes widened. “How di-” he shook his head, thinking this might be a trick to get him to spill information. “I promised your family I wouldn’t talk about it to anyone, why are you so eager to know?”

“Because I need to know more about this stupid case!”

“Then go ask your dad, not me! It’s his case, he knows a lot more about it than me anyway. He’s the one with the answers.”

“No, he’s not. He might know more about the case, but he’s not going to tell me shit.”

“So you’re trying to get it out of me? Well, stop! Cause it’s gonna work!” 

Kyle snorted but immediately got serious again. “So just tell me now instead of delaying if you know I’ll get you to talk. Time is not on our side right now.”

“Why do you have such a boner for this all of a sudden? You should be fretting about your test right now and being a study monster and avoiding me until you finish them, not be okay taking the L on them and getting obsessive about something that’s not your problem!”

“Because it is my problem, and I honestly haven’t given it the attention it deserved because I assumed it wasn’t! If I don’t get you to talk, I’m going to go through my worst nightmare again! You’d think I’d be desensitized by now!”

“Go through what again?” 

“Nothing. What did my dad ask of you?”

Stan stared at him quizzically, still staring at Kyle as the bell came and went.  “...You’re acting like you already know. What, do I sleep talk or something? What did I say?”

“No, you haven’t said anything, that’s why we’re here!”

“You’ve never even asked me about this and you’re already aggressive, like you have several times.”

“I have several times!” Kyle let slip out. “I’ve asked hundreds of times if you’re okay and I know this has to do with it!”

“...How would you know that?” Kyle looked around the room, trying to find a good explanation, but he couldn’t think of one. “Kyle,” Stan said sternly.

“Alright, look, I…” He got Stan to admit they were linked, but Stan’s temper was rising at Kyle’s ambiguity, and if he wanted to get farther in his investigation, he’d have to give some answers too. He bit his lip as he thought about telling him the truth, something he avoided so far in fear it would make Stan leave the loop and then off himself, but now that Kyle knew he wasn’t killing himself…

Kyle sighed, and decided to come out with it, hoping this didn’t backfire, “I’m in a time loop.”

Stan stared at him, eyes slightly wide, then he scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious Stan!” Kyle pointed at the group of girls coming out of the lunchroom and passing them. “Oh my God, did you guys see that Popstar had a nude leaked?” Kyle said at the same time as Heidi.

“That got leaked like a week ago, Heidi,” he said again at the same time as Bebe.

“No, no, there’s another one. You know the lead singer of Stardust Revival?”

“Oh, he got leaked?”

“Sorry, Bebe, there wasn’t much to see.”

Stan listened silently as Kyle said the conversation perfectly. Kyle pointed at another group without looking and recited their conversation about skipping class, word for word too. “...Alright, now I’m interested.”

Kyle blinked rapidly. “...That was quick to convince you.”

Stan shrugged. “We’ve gone through crazier impossibles.” He relaxed, no longer frustrated, but curious. “So what happened in other loops that made you so invested?”

“It’s not what happened, more like what’s going to happen.”

Stan cocked his head. He opened his mouth to ask Kyle to elaborate but cut himself off with a gasp. “They were stolen, weren’t they?”

Kyle stared at him blankly. “The documents my dad gave you?”

Stan turned and smacked himself in the head. “Fuck! I knew I fucked up!”

“What happened?” Kyle asked, softly, showing he wasn’t mad, but he needed to know.

Stan sighed and went to speak.

“Marsh! Broflovski!” Their bitchy sophomore year English teacher yelled. Must still have that vendetta for when they convinced her that KYS meant Keep Yourself Safe and she started using it until she said it to the principal. “Lunch is over, get to class!”

Kyle mentally cussed as they scurried out of the hall and to their separate classes. But before they fully separated, Kyle called out. “Wait for me after school! Don’t run away from this conversation!” 

Stan looked at him, then went to his hall wordlessly. Kyle just hoped that meant he would listen. 

Kyle anxiously stared at the clock the entire class, wishing for once during the middle of these loops for time to quickly pass. He bolted out of his seat the millisecond the bell rang for the end of the day and sprinted down to the basement. He paused and checked his phone as he waited. Kenny arrived not long after he did. 

“How did talking to Stan go? Did you get anything out of him or do we need to somehow overlap time loops to get the documents to show him?”

“I think I’ve almost got him to spill, assuming he doesn’t run from this conversation and ask my dad. If he did that, no doubt my dad would tell him to shut his trap and we’d be back to where we were.”

“So we can only hope he’s not currently driving to your house while we wait here.”

“...Yes.”

They sat there for a painstakingly slow three minutes. 

“I think he pussied out,” Kenny said after checking his phone for the twentieth time.

Kyle bit his lip. “Maybe I should have stood outside his class door and dragged him down here. I don’t like forcing him to do stuff, but…”

“Wait, did you tell him to meet us down here? Maybe we shouldn't have mentioned me since I’m not supposed to know.”

“No, I didn’t mention you, I just told him to meet me after school.”

They blinked at each other. 

“...Did you tell him to meet you down here?”

Kyle opened his mouth, but no words came out. He then picked up his bag and speed-walked to the stairway, Kenny in toe. They made it outside and sighed, relieved when they saw Stan sitting on the cement ledge bordering the planted trees by the staircase. Stan was bouncing his leg anxiously and looked up when he heard Kenny and Kyle approaching him.

“...Did you tell Kenny?”

“Not on purpose. He’s in the time loop, too.”

Kenny looked at Kyle. “You told him about the time loop?”

“Yeah, kind of slipped out. Didn’t, uh, y’know,” Kyle mumbled the last part, not wanting to talk about Stan’s fate in front of him, or just in general. Kenny nodded in understanding. 

Kyle clasped his hands together. “Okay, Stan. I know my dad asked you to hold onto some documents regarding Horizon Enterprises. Earlier you said something about them getting stolen?”

“Wait, so they don’t get stolen?” Stan asked. 

Kyle and Kenny shared a look. “No. Is that what has you paranoid?”

Stan sighed and stood up. He put his hands in his pockets and kicked the ground. “I know people are after those papers. And I think they’ve figured out I have them.”

“Is someone after you?” Kyle asked. Stan was silent, gaze glued to the ground, then nodded. “Do you know who?”

“Personally, no. I don’t think it’s someone I’ve ever talked to.”

“Can you describe them?”

Stan looked up at Kyle. “I can do one better. He’s here.”

“What?!?” Kyle and Kenny exclaimed.

“Across the street standing by the tree in the church parking lot. I’ve never gotten a good look because they move when I turn, but I’ve caught glimpses of them in mirrors, the edges of my vision, in window reflections… it’s really unnerving.”

Kyle grabbed Kenny’s arm to keep him from looking. “If we turn, he’ll know what’s up. Stan, let's walk to your car and act like we normally do. Kenny, you go in the opposite direction and see what he looks like and if you can confirm he’s following Stan.”

“Got it, but one thing,” Kenny said as Stan adjusted his backpack. “You said he, then switched to them. Are there multiple people stalking you?”

“Yeah, at least two. One has blond hair and the other has dark hair, I don’t know what shade, he’s always too far away.”

“Brown, I bet,” Kyle mumbled, thinking of that policeman. “Let’s go.”

Kyle and Stan started to walk to Stan’s car, but it felt eerie now that Kyle knew they were being watched. Kyle decided to strike up a conversation, both to appear more natural and to try to distract himself from the fact they were being watched. “Are you the only one who knows where the documents are?”

“Yeah,” Stan replied. “Your dad said that was the only way to keep your family and the project safe. Not even my parents or dog knows about them, much less where I put them.”

“So why are you afraid of them getting stolen if you’re the only one who knows where they are?”

Stan looked down at his feet as they walked. “…Do you remember that time we went out and we thought Cartman drugged me to get back at me for making fun of him when he tripped and fell on his face?”

“Yeah, the time that Cartman swears he didn’t do it when he obviously did?” Kyle responded. 

“I’m not positive he’s lying.” 

Kyle looked at him confused. 

Stan grabbed at his head. “I’m missing a chunk of my memory from that night, but you told me I was talking to some strangers before you took me home.”

Kyle’s nose scrunched. “Yeah, they were chatting you up and it was obvious you were not lucid. I wasn’t about to let them touch you.”

“Well, I have no proof of this, but part of me wonders if… it was one of them who drugged me.”

“Why would they want to drug you?” 

“Because I think they might be people working for that company. Your dad said some really bad people would do anything to gain possession of those documents and since I’m the one who hid them… it freaks me out that I can’t remember if I shared where I put them. I was already being stalked by that time, and I have no memory to confirm if the strangers were the same guys, but it seems too coincidental.

“Then a few days later, my dad’s gun went missing. I know it sounds stupid, but it felt like a threat that they knew where I lived and could get in. That I wasn’t safe even in my own home.” 

Kyle's blood went cold at the mention of the gun, removing any small doubt and confirming that these people were responsible for what was going to happen. He looked up when Stan’s voice raised in pitch, and his heart sank at Stan’s clearly distraught face. He wanted to comfort Stan, tell him it was alright, but it wasn’t.

They were standing in front of Stan’s car and got in, immediately locking the doors. 

“That was over a month ago,” Kyle said, no longer whispering now that they were in the car. “You’ve been dealing with this for over a month? That’s fucking terrifying.” He looked at Stan as he attempted to start the car. “If they haven’t been stolen yet, you probably didn’t tell anyone about them. And maybe your dad did just lose the gun. It’s a pretty Randy thing to do.” He didn’t. Obviously. That gun was always the weapon, but Kyle couldn’t take it when he saw Stan’s hands shaking so bad he couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Stan didn’t need to know about the gun or his death; he was already freaked enough. 

Stan finally got the key in and the engine roared to life. “That’s what I keep telling myself, too. But I can’t shake the feeling that they’re waiting for the right time to steal it, you know? I didn’t just put them in a random spot, they’re under surveillance. They might be waiting or plotting on how to get past it.”

“So why don’t you relocate them?”

“I plan on it. I’ve been researching secure areas that I could take them to, but it’s been hard trying to research this on other devices besides my own in case they tapped into it somehow, or in incognito when others aren’t watching.” 

Kyle had the smallest of memories flash through his head, one back all the way when he first started reliving the same days. He woke up to Stan on his phone, and he always assumed that was Stan writing his suicide note – which was why he freaked and closed his phone when Kyle looked over. All this new information gave that memory a whole new scenario. 

“I think I found a good place to put them, but with them always fucking following me…” Stan took a deep breath before continuing, “Your dad said you all could be assassinated if those got in the wrong hands.” His hands tightly gripped the steering wheel. “I would die before I let that happen.”

Oh, little did he know.

“I don’t want to chance it any longer. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I planned on moving them during the festival. Most of the town will be busy and the dark could be used to my advantage.”

Kyle felt warm liquid starting to pour out of his hand from how hard he was clenching them. He put his palms down on his pants, letting the blood soak up in them and not into Stan’s seats. 

“Now, my turn,” Stan said emotionlessly. “You said they don’t get stolen, but your franticness means something else happens… and I’m guessing it’s about me.”

Kyle curled in on himself. 

“Isn’t it?”

“I’m not going to let it happen,” Kyle said desperately. “We know more now, and with Kenny and me, we’re going to make sure you’re safe!”

Stan took in a shaky breath as he stopped at a red light. Kyle reached over and held his face in his hands. “You’re not alone. I won’t let them hurt you.”

Stan looked at Kyle with wide eyes, both fearful and trusting. He closed them before they became glassy, letting out a deep breath to regulate his emotions. 

Kyle’s phone started to ring, and the only reason why he looked down was because he thought it might be Kenny. Kyle and Stan looked at the device as he placed his phone on the center console and hit the speaker button. “What do you got, Kenny?”

“He’s following Stan alright. Walked with you guys until you drove away. I got some pictures but they’re far away. They won’t tell us who this is by themselves, but if we saw a better photo of him, I’d be able to tell it was him.”

“Okay. Meet us at my dad’s office.”

“Not the school?”

“No. We need to know who these guys are. If anyone were to know, it would be who's been keeping tabs on the case. If we leave now, we can catch him before he leaves for the day, and we can confront him in the place he keeps all his files, and without my mom yelling at us for pestering him about his work.”

“Your dad’s not going to say anything,” Stan jumped in. “He’s terrified of these people. He had a hard time telling me and he only told me what I needed to know.”

“I know,” Kyle said. “But we don’t have a choice. We need to know who these guys are.”

Kyle hung up, and Stan turned the car around in the direction of the law firm.

Chapter Text

Gerald looked up when his door opened. “Oh, hello boys,” he greeted as Stan, Kyle, and Kenny entered the room and pulled up chairs. 

“Dad, there’s something really important that I need to talk to you about.”

“Did you boys get in trouble?”

“Kind of. More like trouble’s chasing us. Dad… we need to know more about Horizon Enterprises.”

Gerald visibly stiffened. He looked sternly at Kyle. “We can’t talk about them. Nobody’s supposed to know we’re looking into them, and you go and tell your friends?? Who else have you told about it?!?”

“Nobody. I figured it out on my own,” Kenny fibbed. “I saw something earlier and we think Horizon Enterprises might have something to do with it, but we don’t have enough information.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose anything. It’s classified.”

“Dad,” Kyle intruded, “it’s really important!”

“Kyle, you don’t know what you’re investigating! Drop it for your own good before something bad happens to you!”

“It’s too late for that, Dad, we’re already in this whether we want to be or not. If you care about our safety, you need to tell us more about Horizon Enterprises. What they did, whose part of it, what’s in those docum-”

“Kyle!” Gerald yelled. “Careful what you say!” He leaned in and whispered, “You never know who might be listening!” They sat in silence as Gerald looked around, paranoid, as if there was a hidden camera in his office. Who knows, maybe there was.

He wiped away the scared look on his face, straightened the papers on his desk and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want you guys getting involved. I-”

“Then why did you give Stan the documents?!?” Kyle shouted.

Gerald flinched. He turned to Stan, angry. “You told him?”

“No!” Kyle said for him. “I found out on my own. And you know why? Because he’s being followed! You put him in danger!”

He looked at Stan, shocked by this revelation. “For how long?”

Stan looked down at the ground. “A month or so.”

Gerald put his head in his hands. “God, I.. I never meant to put you in harm's way. I just needed someone I could trust.”

“So please, dad-”

“Still, I don’t know if I can tell you all this information. Not only is it classified, but if someone is watching or comes in, we’re screwed. I can’t throw this all away because of a little paranoia.”

“A little?!?” Kyle almost screamed. 

“They won’t attack unless they know they can get away with it,” he continued over Kyle.

Kyle had never gotten in his dad’s face in his life, but there was a first for everything. He put his hands on the desk, about to push his chair out and lean over until his nose was touching his father’s, but Stan put an arm over Kyle’s chest to keep him sitting, staying calm, somehow. 

“It’s not just paranoia anymore,” Stan calmly stated. “I think I let it leak where the documents are. They haven’t been stolen,” he quickly added before Gerald could freak out, “but they’re in jeopardy. And this isn’t just assuming.” He looked deep into Gerald’s eyes. “We’re in a time loop right now. I know you’re scared that someone might hear us, or we might slip later, or whatever we plan on doing will fuck up everything, but we promise it won’t.”

He closed his eyes for a few seconds before continuing. “Whatever you tell us, or we say around, will be erased when the loop resets.” Kyle and Kenny snapped their attention to him. “But we’re not going to get anywhere, and in fact get in more danger if you don’t because those documents are just going to be stolen over and over again.” 

Gerald looked to be on the fence, but not shutting them down or outright denying them anymore, so Stan decided to push further. “You mentioned to me that you need just a little bit more evidence; if we can get that evidence in the next loop… or two… then maybe we can close the case for you and we’ll all be safe from them. But until you tell us something, we’re just going to be fumbling in the dark, letting them win.”

Gerald contemplated Stan’s words, debating. For some reason, he believed Stan; he had dealt with weirder case stories and clients in the past. “...Alright. Only if you’re resetting this loop you’re talking about.” He reached into his desk and grabbed a small key. He got up and unlocked one of the cabinets, pulled out a few files, and then walked back over to his desk. “Here’s what we’ve collected on Horizon Enterprises.” He separated the papers, pointing to each as he spoke, “We have evidence that they have dealt in labor exploitation, fraudulent labeling, illegal deforestation, and corrupt bribery with another group that we have been trying to bring down for some time. Each of these things should be enough to bring them down, but that other group has been helping them cover their tracks. Those documents I asked you to hold were evidence that was collected immediately before someone, or some people, wiped away everything like they always do. We’ve been working behind the scenes to make sure we can take them down permanently. We could risk it with what we have, but it’s possible they might slip through our fingers again, saying something like we forged it or it was bad employees that have already been fired. If we collect just one more thing against them with a different timestamp than what we currently have – tax evasion, pollution, even a crime one of their higher-ups committed for the company – there would be no debate left to have.”

“What about stalking?” Kyle asked.

Gerald sighed and shook his head. “They haven’t done anything physical, and that could easily be argued a coincidence.” 

“What about some of the higher-ups? Can you pin anything on them? Someone that already has a sketchy record?”

Again, his dad shook his head. “Not quite. We’ve got a good list of people we think are part of it though. One of the files you have in your possession, Stan, is an interview of one of the employees that didn’t agree with what the company is doing and told us some insider information.”

“...What happened to him?” Kyle nervously questioned. 

“...We don’t want his interview to be in vain.” He opened up another file and pulled out some mugshots. “From what we’ve observed and from his interview, we’re confident all these people have a big hand in the corruption and cover-up.” He continued to point at individuals, explaining what their role in the company was and their possible involvement, or if they were part of that other bad corporation that was helping them hide their corruption.

Kenny pointed at one of the pictures. “That one.” He said, picking up the picture of a middle-aged, blond-haired man with a scar on his chin. “That’s who was following you.”

Kyle reached over and picked up another mugshot, that of the police officer who asked him for the propane tank last iteration, except according to this picture, he was definitely not a cop. “That motherfucker.” He put the picture down by the headshot Kenny pulled out. “They’re both part of this. They’re the ones.” He looked up at his dad as Kenny studied their faces. “Can you give us any information you have on them?”

“I don’t have much, just their names, age, and some background information.” He handed them what he had and they all crowded over the papers. 

“Let’s try and memorize this and find anything else on these two, as much as we can.” Kyle looked up and smiled at his dad. “Thank you. You have no idea how real this loop is, and how you might have just stopped it.” Kyle nodded his head towards the door and they all got up to leave. 

“Boys?” They all turned around one final time. “The first thing you should do when you reset is move those documents out of their grasp. They will do anything for those papers. They’re aggressive, relentless people, and those papers are the only reason we’re not dead. They’d kill whoever got in their way, even the ones who got in the way during the journey, just to make them pay for wasting their time.” He looked at Stan. “If they find those papers, you’re the first one on the chopping block. To punish you for getting in the way and a fear message to us that we’re next. We’re all on their assassination list if they get those documents.” He sighed. “I really hope you’re telling the truth about this time anomaly.”

The elevator ride was tense as they replayed all the information that they just got dumped with.  

“...Stan?” Kyle softly spoke as they exited the building. He was looking at the ground but knew Stan looked at him when paged. “...To reset, we… you…”

“I know.”

Kyle looked up. Stan was smiling, but Kyle could tell he was scared. He looked down at Kyle’s hand and slotted his in it. Kyle squeezed it, but no amount of reassurance was going to help either of them. They split off from Kenny once he took pictures of the data so he could still research while they were separated, and Kyle offered to drive since Stan was not feeling too hot. 

Neither bothered with the radio and listened to the car hum as Kyle got on the road. When Kyle got to the fork that separated the direction between his and Stan’s house, he hesitated, not wanting to leave Stan. 

“Can I come over? For the night?” Stan quietly asked. 

“Yeah,” Kyle immediately responded, turning towards his house. When they got to Kyle’s house, his mother warmly greeted them both, used to Stan coming and going whenever. They hunkered down in Kyle’s room, only leaving to quickly eat (pick at is more accurate) dinner so Sheila didn’t yell at them, then went back to researching. They found more basic information on Horizon Enterprises and some records on their two suspects, Gary Hanea and Luke Neminhein, and Kyle made sure to etch every detail about them into his brain. Stan didn’t bother to, finding his time better used to wrap his arms tightly around Kyle’s waist and rest his head on his lap. 

“How many days is the loop?” Stan asked after about an hour of silence, the only noise being Kyle’s typing on his laptop or the papers shuffling around as he looked at them.

“Three. Starting Thursday. It resets after Saturday.”

“...Do you ever wonder if it won’t loop back?”

Kyle put down the files he had been staring at for hours and looked at Stan. He still had his face in his shirt but was fully listening. “Every time,” Kyle answered honestly. “It’s more than wonder; I fear. Every Saturday I’m always afraid I’ll wake up and it’s Sunday, and I missed my opportunity.”

He felt Stan’s already tight grip on his abdomen tighten. He put a hand in Stan’s hair. He might have been the one who had to witness and remember each iteration, but he was never the one to die. It was one thing to be murdered; it’s another to know you’re going to be murdered and can’t do anything to stop it. 

It was the first time Kyle thought about it, what Stan must have been feeling, then and every time in that forest. Like you’re prey being hunted, the only emotion known is fear, and no matter how hard you try to run away or call out for help, you know you’re going to die. Alone and helpless.

Kyle didn’t notice the tear travel down to his chin. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “I shouldn’t have told you about the time loop.”

“No, it’s okay,” Stan responded, somewhat muffled from Kyle’s shirt. “You needed to get that information. It’s the bigger picture that matters.”

Kyle squeezed his eyes shut. “But I’m supposed to be saving you, not letting you walk into your own doom!.. Maybe we can stop them tomorrow. We can come up with a plan. The three of us!”

Stan lifted his head up, not convinced. “In less than 24 hours all by ourselves? We’ve accomplished a lot of crazy things, but I don’t think that’s one. Plus, I already told your dad we would reset it.” Stan sat up but kept his arms around Kyle. He forced a smile. “It’s just temporary, and I won't remember it,” Stan said, almost more to himself than Kyle.

Kyle’s eyes started to water. He leaned in and rested his head on Stan’s shoulder as he hugged him back. “I will save you. After this, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

He heard Stan take in a shaky breath, and let it go, just as shaky. 

Neither slept well that night. They hugged each other tightly the whole night, refusing to let go no matter what until the sun rose in the morning. Kyle usually slept a restful night when Stan was around, but this time, he spent the whole night rubbing circles into Stan’s back as Stan did the same for him. That anxious feeling came back, the possibility of the loop not resetting looming in the back of his mind, creeping up a day early. Stan, on the other hand, held on for dear life, trying to comfort Kyle but also hold on, knowing that for him, this was the last night he would have, the last night he would spend with Kyle.

As soon as the sun started to light up the sky, they left and Kyle took them to the room in the basement he and Kenny set all their shit in. Stan examined the room and their setup as Kyle started to add what they learned about Horizon Enterprises. Kenny came in soon after and they already started working on a plan that they would set into action immediately on Thursday. When the bell rang to go to class, all of them skipped; Kenny and Kyle didn’t want to waste their limited time in class – tests be damned – and Stan didn’t want to spend his last moments in lectures. He’d much rather stay with Kyle. It was helpful for the planning too, since he was able to give feedback on what he would probably be doing, where he currently had the documents – that military-base-turned-veteran-brunch-hangout, stashed away in a hidden locker compartment that was under security –  when he planned on retrieving the documents, and extra opinions on the plan as they edited it over and over. 

The bells rang as the hours passed until there were no more left to ring. The room was trashed with tossed papers and they once again resorted to tacking whatever they found necessary and scribbling on the wall. There were no windows to know what time it was, but as the time got closer and closer to the time the festival started, they all became very hyper-aware of every second. 7:00 came, and they all ignored the messages asking them if they were coming to dinner, then 7:30, 7:45. 

Stan came up behind Kyle as he was looking at their wall of chaos. He wrapped his arms around Kyle and buried his head in his shoulder. 

“...I planned on moving the documents a little after the festival started. Around 8:30.”

Kyle’s heart stung as he looked at the time on his phone, reading 8:05. If Stan were to get there on time, he would have to be leaving soon. As much as he wanted to stall Stan, he couldn’t, or the pieces of shit, sorry excuses of human beings would get the documents since Stan wasn’t there to take them and run. They talked about letting them steal the documents and prolonging Stan’s time by a day, but Stan quickly disagreed; that left way too many uncertainties, like the possibility that Kyle or Kenny would be killed with him on Saturday, or he wouldn’t die and the loop would be broken, or if he died and the loop didn’t reset and they still were in possession of the documents. At least this way, from what he was told, they didn’t end up with the papers, and at this point that’s all he could ask for. 

Kyle turned around in Stan’s arms so they were facing each other. Stan instantly connected their lips, kissing him roughly, then softly, then repeated after a quick breath. He kissed him like it was the last time, which it was for him. 

When they pulled apart, his eyes were glossy. He put on a brave face and a smile even though he was fucking terrified. He ran a hand through Kyle’s hair when his eyes started to get wet too. 

Stan leaned in for another long kiss. “No matter what happens,” he said in a whisper, “I don’t regret this. I will do anything to keep you safe. You are the most important thing to me.” A tear fell from Kyle’s eye and slid down onto Stan’s finger. He wiped it off and kissed him again. “I love you so much.” He gave Kyle one last kiss. “Always have, always will. I want you to know that.”

Kyle sniffled as Stan let go and grabbed his keys. Stan walked to the door and opened it. 

Kyle let out a muffled sob and ran across the room as Stan opened the door. He held onto Stan’s back, sobbing freely. Kenny had to pry him off since neither of them wanted Kyle to let go. They watched as Stan walked up the stairs, giving one final wave before disappearing. 

Kyle slid his heavy feet across the floor before letting his body fall into a chair. A few moments later, his phone rang. 

“Stan?” He could hear Stan’s car beeping and the engine starting. 

“Hey. Sorry, I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

Kyle nodded, then remembered Stan couldn’t see him and asked to hear him. “Yeah, of course.” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “How’s Sparky doing these days?” Kyle asked, saying the first thing that came to mind to get the situation off of both of their minds as best as he could.

“He’s doing good. Still energetic as always, even for his age.”

A small smile formed on Kyle’s lips. “We should take him to the park sometime. We can bring his favorite toys.”

They talked about whatever came to mind as Stan continued to drive. Kyle even started to forget their plight after a while. The small smile that Kyle had fell when he heard Stan turn off the car. 

Stan was quiet for a second. “I guess that’s my cue.”

“I can stay on for a little bit.”

“No… I don’t want you to hear anything. I don’t want you remembering that.” Kyle could hear the smile on his face, “Thank you for keeping me company, and letting me hear you.”

“Always,” Kyle squeaked out. 

“Hey, Ken?”

“Yeah?” Kenny responded, listening the whole time and visibly distraught as well. 

“Take care of things while I’m gone.”

“I will. These assholes aren’t going to get away with this anymore.”

“Good.” There was another pause. “I guess, I'll ... see you guys around. That sounds better than goodbye.”

“We’ll see you soon, Stan,” Kyle said. “...I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Kyle listened to the beeping that indicated the end of the phone call. He put his phone down and sat there, numb. 

“Come on, Kyle,” Kenny said after some time. “Let’s finish this plan so we don’t have to go through this again. So he doesn’t have to go through it again.”

Kyle nodded, wiping his eyes even though he knew more tears would fall, and they went back to working out any kinks and coming up with alternate plans in case unexpected circumstances happened. They stayed up all night, unable to sleep despite the tired ache throughout their bodies from the lack of sleep the previous night. 

They wrote out their complex plan and looked at every detail hundreds of times before all written copies disappeared, not even stopping to eat once. They did nothing but sit in that room and memorize everything, both of them unsuccessfully trying to bite down the bile that came up in the morning when their phones went off as the news spread. 

Chapter Text

Kyle slammed the off button on his alarm clock and flew out of bed, wasting no time.

Ike jumped when he opened the door and Kyle was standing right there. “Jesus, fuck! Don’t scare me like that!”

“You’re the one barging into my room.”

“Y– well, whatever. I’m stealing your TV remote.”

“Lost it again?”

“I was distracted doing other stuff, okay? It’s somewhere, but I don’t want to waste my time looking for it right now, especially if I can just use yours since it’s the same model.”

“Fine.” Kyle held his remote out, but pulled it away before Ike could grab it. “If you let me use your CSI Bluetooth set.” 

Ike gave him a face. “Seriously?” He groaned when Kyle didn’t move, still keeping the remote out of his reach. “Ugh, fine, you can borrow two of them.”

“All of them.”

“Why?”

“Do you want the remote or not?”

Ike rolled his eyes. He walked into his room and grabbed the earpieces Kyle wanted and aggressively shoved them into Kyle’s open palm. Kyle gladly handed him the remote and watched as Ike went downstairs. Once he heard the TV turn on, he quickly went to the bathroom, grabbed the living room remote and hid it in his room so Ike couldn’t ask for the earpieces back.

Kyle mumbled the lines of the show Ike was watching out of habit as he ate breakfast and waited for Stan to show up. He cleaned his plate and made sure he had everything he needed in his bag, then stepped out of the house at exactly 7:16, just as Stan pulled into the driveway and already hopped in before Stan took his hand off the stick shift. 

“Hey-mmph!” Stan was cut off as Kyle literally climbed into the car, putting his knees on the seat and leaning over to kiss Stan. He held Stan in a lip lock for at least a minute, only allowing Stan to pull away to breathe before reconnecting them again. When Kyle finally let him go, he looked at Kyle with surprised eyes, then chuckled. “Good to see you too.”

“You have no fucking idea.”

“I thought you were going to be pissed that I was running late when you’ve got tests to study for.”

“Being with you is way more important than some stupid tests.” Kyle kind of wished he gave Stan some more attention the first time instead of just his books. He wouldn’t do that next time he had a test; it’s just a stupid grade at the end of the day (that he’ll probably maintain regardless). “Besides, I feel pretty prepared for them,” he added when Stan gave him that cute but heart-wrenching guilty face. 

“You sure you feel prepared?”

“Yeah. I’d say so,” Kyle responded flatly. 

Kyle sat properly in his seat, and Stan took them to school. He stayed quiet when Kyle didn’t speak, assuming he was practicing his knowledge for his tests, obviously not guessing that he was actually running over the shit he’d been cramming for the past 36 hours (for him, at least). That and silently being thankful he didn’t hate My Chemical Romance. Stan would probably be surprised and pleased when Kyle would sing them perfectly for him, something Kyle already decided he’d do for him when he got Stan out of this fucking loop.

 When they walked up to their group, Kenny and Kyle shared a look as they went through the familiar actions: showing Stan the video, talking about the festival, and listening to Stan lie about going to dinner and the festival (technically he didn’t know he was lying about the festival). When Kyle got to his class, he ignored the teacher and pulled out a smaller personal journal and a pencil. He leaned on his desk and got to writing.

“Kyle! Pay attention in my class! You will never be the brainiac people make you out to be if you do not pay attention.”

“I am paying attention,” Kyle responded, not even bothering to look up as he continued sketching and writing in his journal instead of the worksheet. He already filled it out anyway right as they passed it out. 

“Oh really? Then tell me, what is the name of the battle that took place in Colorado back in 1864 and what tribes were primarily affected?” 

“The Sand Creek Massacre, where Colorado Territory militia attacked an encampment of Cheyenne and Arapaho people at Sand Creek, killing over 150 Native Americans.”

“What d-?”

“November 29th.”

The class was stunned, and the teacher cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Right, well, look up every now and then, would you?” He went back to teaching, and Kyle ignored the surprised and astonished looks. He still didn’t look up a single time, but the teacher didn’t risk calling on him again. 

Kyle spent the rest of that class and the next jotting down the plan in his notebook – couldn’t hurt to write a written copy while it was still fresh in his brain – and testing the Bluetooth earbuds. He turned them on and tested each one as best he could, knowing he’d have to test the mics later when not in class. Most were pretty good; They all turned on, connected, and the audio seemed to work when he heard beeping coming from them all. The only issue he saw was that two bud’s batteries were lower than half, and he made a mental note to charge them all just in case. 

He shoved everything back into his bag as the bell for lunch rang. He was the first out of the room, and quickly walked to the cafeteria. He got his lunch and walked to his table. 

Cartman made eye contact with Kyle as he got closer. “Here co-”

“Yes! We get it, I’m a thundercunt!!” Kyle screamed back as he slammed his tray on the table, fucking tired of hearing that.

Cartman was taken aback. He thought he was being original with that one.

Kyle sat in front of his tray and made no effort to stop Cartman from stealing it. He waited for Cartman to take one bite, Stan to yell at Cartman, and for the fatty to flip off his boyfriend before grabbing Stan’s shoulder. Before Stan could pass him his tray, Kyle handed him a five dollar bill. “The lunch here sometimes upsets my stomach, anyway-”

“-Because Jews have weak ass immune systems,” Cartman interrupted. 

Kyle closed his eyes and took a calming breath before continuing. “Could you go get me something from the vending machine?”

“Sure. What would you like?”

“Could you get me some Smart Water and that packet of cheese and pretzels?” he asked sweetly. 

“That’s only in the vending machine upstairs across the goddamn school,” Craig commented. “You’re asking a lot for some stupid pretzels.”

“It’s just a couple of extra steps.” Stan slid his hand down Kyle’s back and smiled at him. “I’ll be right back.” He stood up and handed Kyle the money back before leaving.

“And he’s paying for it? Can someone say whipped?” Cartman commented.

“Not what whipped means, dumbass,” Craig shot back before Kyle could. “Him paying for it isn’t the whipped part.”

Kyle didn’t refute that comment, too busy watching Stan until he left the cafeteria. He turned back to his group of friends, minus Stan, who he just sent out, and Kenny, who should be waiting at the vending machine to stall Stan further. 

“I need to ask a big favor of all of you.”

“No,” Cartman quickly responded.

“The answer is probably no,” Craig said.

“Ack! But what if it’s important? What if Kyle gets mad if we say no?!?”

“Just let me ask it before you all make your decisions, alright?”

They all looked up at him, not pausing in their munching, but at least curious enough to hear what he was going to ask. Kyle sighed. “It’s about Stan.”

“Oh, God,” Cartman rolled his eyes. “We don’t want to hear about your gay shit, Kyle. We hear it enough from these two already!” Cartman yelled, jabbing his thumb at Tweek and Craig. 

“It’s not about our relationship. I’m sure you all have noticed his change in mood recently; he’s been on edge.”

“Is it because you haven’t sucked his dick?”

“It’s because he’s being followed.” Everyone paused in their eating. “Stalked. And they’re not friendly.”

“For real?” Clyde asked.

“Yes. Kenny and I have been looking into who they are, and we don’t want to scare Stan, but they’re not following him just to talk.” Everyone stopped eating and gave him their full attention. “We stalked them back,” Kyle fibbed, hoping nobody asked how, “and they’re going to try and…” Kyle had a hard time saying the word, especially in front of his group of friends. 

“Oh GOD! They’re going to murder him!!”

“Now, Tweek, he didn’t say that,” Craig turned back to Kyle. “Right?” His forever bored face shifted to slight fear when Kyle didn’t say anything. 

The whole group burst into freaked-out ramblings and Kyle had to yell to get their attention again. 

“Stan doesn’t know this but they plan on attacking him during the festival.”

“We can’t let them do that!” Tolkien exclaimed. A majority of the group followed with “Yeah!”

“I’m glad you guys agree. Kenny and I have come up with a plan to stop their plan and put them away for good so they can’t hurt him or anyone else. You all in?”

“Yeah!”

“You bet!”

“I don’t know…” They all turned and glared at Cartman. “It’s one less hippie in the world.”

“Shut up, fatass!” they all yelled. They ignored his whining and other comments, and all eyes were on Kyle, hanging on his every word.

“Alright,” Kyle said, pulling out his notebook and the earbuds. “Here’s the plan.”

----

The final bell for the day rang and students flooded out of the building, meeting up with their friend groups or rushing home.

“Stan!” Said boy turned at the sound of his name. 

Kyle ran up to him. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Always.”

They started walking to Stan’s car, and Kyle grabbed Stan’s hand. “Hey, Stan?”

“What’s up?”

“Could you come over? I know we talked about replacing my car battery tomorrow, which I’m sure you forgot, but I’d like to just get it out of the way.” He gave Stan an innocent smile, the one he knew got Stan to change a no to a yes 90% of the time. “You know how I am.”

“Spare me the face,” Stan chuckled. “Yeah, I got some time.”

Kyle thanked him as he slipped into the car. He buckled his seatbelt and looked to his side, noticing that Stan hadn’t gotten in yet; he was standing in the open doorway with his hand on the door, staring into the distance. He was looking in the direction of the church, no doubt looking at the guy. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he got in and slammed the door shut, mood gone reasonably sour. “You got everything?” 

“Yup! Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Kyle affirmed, just as eager to get out of that creep’s sight.

When they got to Kyle’s house, Kyle popped the hood for Stan and quickly retrieved the new battery. Stan was too busy looking inside the car to look over, so Kyle stated he was putting the battery on the ground by his left. He gave Kyle verbal acknowledgment as he started unhooking the air filter housing. 

Kyle hugged Stan from behind and thanked him. He kissed his jaw and Stan leaned his head back and hummed, accepting the affection. Kyle smiled and slithered his hands off Stan's waist, grabbing Stan’s phone out of his pocket as he let go. Stan continued on, not noticing. Not that Stan would have cared. Honestly, Kyle would probably start playing music on it once he was done. 

He walked over to the side of the house, still in Stan’s vision if he were to look up and over, but far enough away that he couldn’t hear him if he talked at normal or lower volume. Kyle opened Stan’s phone and scrolled his contacts until he found who he was looking for. He held it up to his ear as he listened to it ring a few times. 

“What is it, Stan?” Wendy answered. “I’m working with the student council.”

In the last loop, Stan told them that Wendy would be staying after school to work on some shit – he couldn’t remember what, but Kyle was fairly certain it had to do with being student body president. She had been working on it during lunch and Stan said that she was just doing some final touches to a poster design she was making. 

“It’s Kyle.”

“Kyle? Why are you calling me on Stan’s phone?”

“Because he’s in your favorites and his call will bypass your silent mode, unlike mine.”

“Okay, fair enough, but why are you calling me? You should know out of everyone that I got a lot to do today. As much as I’d like to chat, I have to get some studying done after I’m done here.”

“I’ll help you study for the tests later. Listen, I have something more important than that, and I need your help.”

“...I’ve known you for a decade and I’ve never heard you use that tone… Alright, what do you need?”

Kyle looked up and watched Stan as he continued to talk to Wendy, acting as if he was just chit-chatting on the phone and not having one of the most serious conversations in his life.

----

Kyle walked out of his house right as Stan pulled up again. His nerves were heightened and his finger was tapping nonstop on whatever he came into contact with – first the kitchen table, now the door of Stan’s car, and most likely his desks later. Stan chalked it up to nerves and tried to comfort him, telling him he would do great and that he had nothing to worry about. He didn’t intend it for what Kyle was actually worried about, but it fit nonetheless, and it made Kyle feel marginally better. 

When they got to school, Kyle debated skipping his classes in favor of coming up with more backup plans or checking on everyone and making sure they knew what to do. Not knowing what he was talking about, Stan looked at him like he went crazy when he said he might not go. He physically pushed Kyle to his classroom, telling him he wasn’t missing those tests and that no excuse was worth it. Kyle 100% disagreed with that, but he had a point; as much as Kyle wanted to do something regarding their plan, there wasn’t really anything he could do until lunch. Everyone else had their classes too, and they’d have to sit and wait again later too, so it wasn’t like he had to talk to them immediately. 

Kyle sat down and finished both of his tests in 15 minutes each, but still had to sit in the classroom until the end of the periods. He upgraded from tapping his finger to tapping his pencil, and the people sitting around him gave him the stink eye because of it. That or because he finished so early and made the tests look easy when everyone else was confused as shit. 

Finally, it was lunchtime, and Kyle was out of the classroom before the first ring of the bell had finished. He sat at their table and waited for his friends to show up and was pleasantly surprised that they all showed up seconds after him, also apparently antsy and ready to talk about it. Even Wendy and Bebe ditched their normal group and sat down with them. Kenny came in, saw them all at the table, and quickly turned and pushed Stan out with him. 

Kyle stood up and put his palms on the table. “Okay, did you all find the stuff you need?”

Everyone nodded and put different things on the table. Tolkien had night vision goggles and a large wad of cash, Tweek and Craig had an almost empty bag of coffee beans, Clyde brought some fireworks, and Jimmy had a notebook filled with topics, enough content that he could talk for hours.

“Good. Go ahead and give Craig the cash.” Kyle reached into his bag and pulled out the Bluetooth earbuds. “I finished testing each of these. One was broken, but five should be enough.” He gave one to Wendy, Craig, Butters, and Tolkien. “And I’ll have one. We’ll each share with who we’re grouped with. The mic is pretty decent so we should be able to hear whoever doesn’t have it as long as they’re next to you. The connection on these things goes for about 300 meters, so if we start to spread out too much, whoever’s in the middle will have to keep everyone on the same page. That’s you, Butters.”

“What about mine, Jew?”

“You’ll be near Craig and Tweek so you don’t need one.”

Cartman tsked but didn’t argue further. 

“Tolkien, did you get the stand?”

“Yeah, I did. I convinced my dad to set up a stand for Jimmy to perform on. I told him it was for charity, so if he asks, that’s why. It should be being built right now, and I made sure it’s outside of the festival, right where you marked it.”

“Perfect. Jimmy, you’ll start your show right before the festival.”

“N-No problemo! I’ve got enough jokes and recycled content to t-t-talk all night!”

“And Wendy and Bebe...”

“I’ve brought out my expensive makeup and prom dress for this!” Bebe exclaimed.

Kyle nodded. “Let’s go over everyone’s positions one more time,” He pulled out a map of the festival and another hand-made one of the forest, and spread them on the table. 

They all leaned in and confirmed their locations and got out any last-minute questions to make sure they were all on the same page. By the end of their discussion, each of them looked confident. As confident as they could be in the situation given to them. 

Clyde raised his hand as if they were in class. “Why don’t we tell Stan? I don’t see why he can’t be in on a plan all about him. It’s not a surprise party.”

Kyle hesitated. He could have told Stan, but he was still scarred from last time. 

Luckily Wendy answered for him, bringing logistics into it instead of magic time loops. “If Stan knew who was stalking him, perhaps, but they’re two guys none of us have ever interacted with. If he doesn’t know who they are, he would be more detrimental than beneficial to the plan.”

“How would it be bad? He’d be less unpredictable since he’d be part of the plan.”

“Think about it, Clyde,” Wendy reasoned. “If Stan knew, he might start off following our routine, but he’d be ready to run or throw hands at the snap of a twig. He’d actually be more unpredictable if he knew, and we’d be screwed since we’d assume he’d do his part. Any plan we make would be better off forcing him to go certain directions or do certain actions instead of telling him to and having him freeze or overthink it.”

“Alright,” Kyle interrupted before anyone could think too much about that and ask how Kyle knew when and what direction Stan would be coming from, “Kenny can’t stall Stan all lunch, so let’s make sure everyone knows how to operate these.” He pulled out his earpiece and stuck it in his ear, and the others followed. “It’s simple, but I’m not about to have this plan fail because someone couldn’t figure out how to unmute themselves.”

Everyone did a simple test, getting comfortable with the device. 

“Oh, God, I hope I don’t fuck this up!” Tweek said, echoing in everyone’s ears since Craig’s mic was still on. “I don’t want to be the reason Stan gets killed!”

Craig turned off the device and rubbed Tweek’s back. “We’ve got this. You’re a great actor, and we’ve practiced a lot last night. We’re ready.”

Tweek smiled. “Right. I am ready. Nervous, but ready.”

“Thank you all for helping with this. I know it’s a lot to take in and even more to ask and do.” Kyle put his earbud in a safe place and watched as everyone else did the same. “Lastly, before you all show up tonight, bring some defensive weapons with you. You shouldn’t need it, but in case things go terribly wrong, I don’t want any of you getting hurt. Pepper spray, a pocket knife, anything. Kenny’s bringing an old baseball bat he glued spikes to when he was bored a few years ago.”

Kenny and Stan came into the room moments later and everyone acted as normal as they could. Stan obviously could tell something was up, Wendy and Bebe sitting there was an easy red flag, but everyone ignored any questions and they got through lunch. Everyone tensely dispersed, with one final “See you all at the festival,” letting each other know they were ready for whatever would happen.

The time went by both extremely slow and way too fast. Kyle was ready to get it over with, but also wanted to spend what time they had left with Stan. 

The final bell rang and Kyle left the building with the rest of the crowd of students eager to start the weekend. He smiled to himself when he caught sight of Stan and Kenny standing off to the side. Stan looked unamused, borderline annoyed, expecting Kenny to get in his way again for a third time. Kyle came up to his side and they locked hands instinctively. 

“You guys wanna go get ice cream or something?” Kenny asked, just as antsy.

“Sure, why not?” Kyle agreed. “I’m not in any rush to go home.” And so they all went and got ice cream and came back to sit on the top of the school, just like how they did frequently before the loop. Kyle really hoped they’d be able to do this again. 

They stayed there talking about school and life, enjoying the calm before the storm. It was back to their regularly scheduled program when Stan started to check his phone, constantly getting more anxious each time. He finally excused himself, saying he had to do something before dinner. Kenny offered to drive Kyle home for him, and they watched as Stan disappeared. 

“It’s about time. You ready?” Kenny asked, never taking his eyes away from Stan as he walked to his car.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Kyle mumbled, also staring at Stan and his car until he was out of sight.

“I really hope we don’t fuck this up. All this planning was a pain in the ass on top of the already shitty three-day cycle.”

“At least we have the extra chances,” Kyle leaned over and found a plank of rotting wood to knock on, just in case. 

Kenny drove Kyle home and parked in the middle of the road as Kyle got out to go get his things and his keys. As Kyle walked up the driveway, Kenny rolled down his window. “Hey,” he blurted out, getting Kyle’s attention. “We got this.” 

Kyle smiled and nodded. “See you at the festival,” he repeated, just as all their friends said at lunch. It was like a line that meant it was time, that this is what they had been waiting for, because it was.

Kenny smiled too, determined to see this night through triumphant. “See you at the festival,” he responded as Kyle walked inside.

Chapter Text

As soon as Kyle got in his car, he trailed Kenny until they reached City Hall. They spotted the stand Tolkien had set up and parked their cars in line with Tweek’s, Craig’s, and Tolkien’s.

Kyle and Kenny got out of their cars, exchanging a glance. “Ready for this?” Kyle asked, taking a deep breath. 

Kenny nodded, his expression serious. “Let’s do this.”

They walked to the stand where Jimmy was already setting up on the stage with Butters’ assistance in testing the mic. Tolkien and Craig were off to the side, checking their earpieces with each other. When they spotted Kenny and Kyle walking up to them, they tested their earpieces with Kyle just in case too, and went over their individual places. It was as if they were preparing for a large play and it was opening night. It kind of was, but much higher stakes and a lot less practice. 

As the sky darkened and the rest of the group filed in, everyone got in their positions and waited for the festival to start. As soon as people started to walk up for the festival, Jimmy started his act, drawing the attention of a few passersby. People came and went as he joked and told stories, and some guests even parked their cars by all of theirs, thinking it was allowed parking (which worked out in their favor in helping block the road). 

By the time the festival was in full swing, there was a large crowd enjoying Jimmy’s act with the festival music as background noise. Butters passed out water for the audience, also using that time to look around as a second pair of eyes. 

“Wow, what a great audience. Say, have you guys heard those cheesy l-life lesson lines? Most I think are c-c-crap, but there are a few that have some truuu-truth to them. Like ‘life is like a box of chocolates.’ It’s not long if you’re f-fat.” He paused as the crowd laughed. “I’m sorry, that one might have been a l-l-lii… a bit harsh. My dad is probably looking down on me wherever he is. He’s not dead, just c-con-condescending.” He smiled at the crowd laughing and engaging with him. His smile fell for half a second and he brought the mic back up. “Anybody ready for a game of chess?”

Butters’ snapped to attention and immediately turned on his earpiece mic. “Codeline!” He toned out of Jimmy's show and intently followed the comedian's line of sight, and almost immediately he saw a dark silhouette running closer to them. The dark figure skidded to a halt when the cars blocked his path to the forest, and in a split second decision, ran to the closest opening on the other side of the stage. “Stan’s by the edge of the crowd, and the cars worked at blocking him. He’s coming around the other side!” He gasped a few seconds later. “They’re here! Behind him!”

Stan ran behind the crowd and closer to the festival, getting closer to the gap between the comedy stand and the festival where there was an open sidewalk that led to the lake. The crowd was too busy watching Jimmy or partying to pay attention to him, not that he cared. That was until two people blocked his path. Two people he knew. 

“Marsh! About time you got here!”

“Craig! I need to-” he said through heavy pants, using his free hand that wasn’t cradling papers to his chest to try and push past him and Tweek.

“The festival’s already started!” Tweek said, cutting him off. He and Craig both grabbed each of Stan’s arms and pulled him into the crowd. “Come on!”

“Wait!” Stan said to no avail. Tweek and Craig pulled him further into the festival, only giving him enough wiggle room to slide his hand into his jacket to conceal the files he was carrying. 

“Everyone’s around here somewhere. We split up to get drinks and shit,” Craig said as he pulled them further into the booming festival, ignoring Stan’s struggles to break free. Luckily he was tired from running over two miles – probably in as short of a time as 10-12 minutes – making his attempts to break free easier to contain for the couple already determined to keep him hooked around them. 

“We missed you at dinner,” Tweek added, knowing Stan didn't know they didn't actually go. 

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve… been busy,” Stan said, distracted. He was looking over his shoulder every few seconds, more focused on that than what his friends had to say. 

Tweek used his free hand to point. “There’s this really cool band playing by the church. Let’s go see them while we wait for the others!”

“Yeah, I’m sure they got distracted watching some other dumb bands too,” Craig said boredly.

“They’re not dumb, Craig!”

“Some are pretty dumb.”

They walked through the dense crowd towards the church. They still had their hands hooked on Stan’s arms, but he was walking with them with a little less resistance. Tweek started giving facts about the band, poking Stan to make sure he was listening. 

Craig turned to the side as Tweek distracted Stan and raised his free hand to his ear. “Walking to the church," he muttered. "They’re behind us. Both in dark blue, wearing dark gray baseball caps that cover most of their faces.”

“Copy,” Wendy responded. “We see them.”

Craig, Stan, and Tweek moved through the crowd slower than the two assailants, who were shoving past people with no remorse. Both Stan and Tweek let out a yelp as they got extremely close. They picked up their pace, but what saved them was two brave souls stepping right in the men’s way and refusing to move. 

They glowered at the two teenage girls smiling up at them. 

“Hi there!” Bebe said in a high-pitched, sweet voice. She twirled a finger in her long curly hair. “What is a cutie like you rushing around for?”

“We have something we need to do," said the brunette, trying to push her out of the way, but Wendy stopped him with a hand on his bicep. 

“But it’s a party. Wouldn’t you like to party with us?”

The blond male smiled, and Bebe took the chance to wrap her hands around his waist. “We’ve already had a little bit to drink. Wouldn’t you like to give us some more?” She flirted. She slid her hands around his back and chest, subtly reaching into his jacket. 

“The night’s still young,” Wendy added, following Bebe’s example and roaming her hands on the other male. He, unlike his partner, was not as easily convinced, and grabbed one of Wendy’s wrists, throwing it off of him. 

“Buzz off. We have a job to do.” He roughly grabbed her other hand when she shoved it farther into his jacket. He threw that one to the side as well, then grabbed his teammate and forcefully yanked him out of Bebe’s grasp. The girls tried to distract them for a little longer, and the blond male was ready to be distracted, but the brunette was not having it. He forcibly pushed past them while he scolded his teammate for thinking with his dick. The girls watched them storm off as Bebe discreetly put Randy’s gun in her purse and Wendy pulled out her phone, recording them as they followed from a safe distance. 

Tweek enjoyed the show while Stan kept looking back. He couldn’t see those men anymore, but he knew they were out there. He looked at Craig as he tilted his head and cupped his ear. Past Craig, he saw them again, pushing through the crowd even more violently than before. 

“Shit,” Stan said under his breath. Craig looked up when Stan spoke, then followed his gaze. Stan once again tried to pull himself from their grasp. “This is great and all, guys, but I need to go!” Stan said, more anxious than before. 

He expected them to not let him go, but Craig actually unhooked him and pushed him in the opposite direction from their pursuers. “Go.”

Stan looked at him surprised, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He snapped out of his shock and slipped through most of the crowd with quick “Excuse me!”s. In the distance, he heard Craig and Tweek yelling, and for the first time, he heard the voice of the men following him arguing back, threatening them. Craig fought back and the sounds of smashed cups and outbursts from the watching guests followed. If he made it out of this, he’d really owe Craig one. 

Craig fist-fought them for at least five minutes, and even continued to fight them even after getting decked in the face. He growled as he blinked away the pain, but they were already brushing through the crowd, meters away. He got ready to chase after them, but stopped when Tweek held him back. 

“Wait! They’re dangerous! I don’t want you getting hurt more than you already are!” He tugged Craig’s arm hard enough that his own body was diagonal. “We have to go to City Hall where Cartman’s waiting for us!” 

Craig looked at the violent men one last time before dragging Tweek to the heart of City Hall. “Let’s hurry.”

When they caught sight of Cartman, they found him already starting his part, because he knew it was time or because he was a natural asshole, who cared at that point. 

“I’m just sayin’ poor people should be put in camps and sold to people who can afford them! It’s a win-win: free labor for one and free food for the other!” There was already a group around Cartman disapproving. 

Craig nodded towards Cartman and pulled out the cash he received from Tolkien. “I think he’s right!” He pointed at Tweek, who pulled out the empty coffee bag and was eating the last bit of crumbs in it. “I want to buy that one.”

Tweek looked down at the empty bag and his ragged clothes. He threw the bag and tried to cover the holes and messed up buttons with his hands. 

“See, he can’t even dress by himself,” Cartman said. “He needs someone to teach him some manners!”

“I have manners!” Tweek yelled. 

“You say as you eat raw coffee beans like a weirdo,” Craig retorted. 

“Poor people are a disgrace. Let our money fix it!” People grumbled at Cartman’s comment but kept it low to see how Tweek would respond. They didn’t want to get in the way of good drama. 

“You can’t just buy me!”

“I’m rich, I can do what I want.” Craig thumbed through each bill, making it as loud as possible. “If you refuse, I’ll sue you, and you won’t have any money to get a single lawyer and I’ll have the best! Face it, I own you now!”

Tweek glared at him. He clenched his fists, walked right up to Craig, and punched him in the face. Craig moved his head drastically in time with Tweek's fist and fell right onto the punch table, which easily collapsed under him. 

Craig scurried to his feet, then tackled Tweek to the ground. Tweek reached up when he lost his balance and took some bystanders with him. They got up, pissed at getting shit all over their shirts, and vocally stated so. 

As Craig and Tweek continued to fight, Cartman went behind people and threw shit at other partiers, making it look like it was whoever he was hiding behind. With the energy high, everyone started to turn on each other. In a matter of minutes, everyone was fighting and beating each other up. 

Clyde, who was chilling by the City Hall steps, quickly heard the outbreak and sprang to life. He walked over to the side and started setting up and lighting fireworks, adding explosions and fire to the already chaotic scene. The innocent music festival was quickly overtaken by the sounds of shattered glass and screaming as anger and panic took over the festival, far past the point of recovery. All that could be done now was mitigate the damage. 

The mayor watched as a firework went off and blew up one of the columns holding the festival banner, sending it crashing to the ground. She sighed dramatically and turned to her aides. “Call the police. Let’s shut this thing down before it gets worse and we lose witnesses that know who started this mess.”

It only took a few minutes for police sirens to reach everyone's ears. Some people fled immediately, others were too drunk or busy partying to care. Two fire trucks immediately went to work on the buildings that caught fire, and cops started to break up the festival. 

Butters ran up to a few cops sitting around helping kick people out. They were about to give him the same treatment, but Butters clung to one of them and started to sob. “Please, officers! The ones that caused this mess! It was two men who pulled a gun! My friends and I fled, but we got separated and they chased some of them into the nearby forest!”

The cops looked at each other. “I’m sure your friends made it out.”

The other cop elbowed her partner. “Don’t be insensitive. Plus, he said they’re the cause of this mess that made us get called in on a Friday night.” She looked at Butters. “Do you know where they are?”

--

Stan heard the start of the fiasco from all the way at the end of the festival grounds, just making it past the crowd. He looked around, seeing the path to Stark's Pond. It wasn’t the safe secure place he planned, but that wasn’t really an option anymore. He didn’t waste any more time and he sprinted toward the forest. 

Tolkien looked up from the camera he was setting up on the tree at the noise of fireworks going off. He squinted into the darkness, then grabbed his night-vision goggles. “Stan’s entering the forest.” He looked in the direction of the festival. A minute later, two more older men came running out. “And there’s our guys.” He watched them deter from the path and cut into the forest, unlike Stan. “Looks like they’re trying to cut him off. They went straight in, and they’ve already set off some of my motion-sensor cameras.”

Kyle had the map of the forest open while Kenny shone a flashlight on it. Kyle pointed to the numbers marked where Tolkien set up his night-vision cameras, pointing to the ones Tolkien announced got tripped.

Kenny followed Kyle’s finger, unable to hear Tolkien, but Kyle looked over that map enough to point to the tripped motion camera before Tolkien even finished saying the number. “They’re following a pattern,” Kenny mumbled. He handed Kyle the flashlight and picked up his spiked club. “I got this.” He ran deeper into the woods, knowing it better than anyone there (death never scared him so he wasn’t deterred by the creepy stories).

Stan was visibly losing energy, if his heavy breathing and slower pace were anything to go by. His adrenaline rush had run out a while ago, but it spiked again when he heard the trees to his right rustling and voices way too loud for comfort. He picked up his speed again, not daring to look back. He had to get those documents to safety and he didn’t have the time to waste. 

He grunted as he ran over the uneven ground, praying to any twisted gods that the thump and yelling he heard was them falling and not them seeing him and getting closer.

If he were to turn around, he would have seen his wish was granted, but not by a twisted god, but by Kenny, cutting them off and smacking the blond man in the leg. He went down with a howl and Kenny didn’t waste time running and hitting the second guy. He blocked the hit by sacrificing his left arm, but the force was still enough to make him fall. 

The blond man got himself up onto his hands and knees, glaring at Kenny. “You fucking asked for it, dickbag.” He reached into his jacket pocket and gasped when he found it empty. He patted around his jacket, finding nothing but empty pockets. 

His partner glared at him. “What are you wasting time for Gary? Kill that motherfucker and let’s get that kid before he gets away with those documents!”

“It’s not here!”

“How did you lose the fucking gun!” The fake policeman looked into his pockets only to meet the same result. “Those whores! They pickpocketed us!”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to do this the old-fashioned way!” The blond stood up on his good leg and lunged for Kenny. He angrily tried to hit Kenny, but the dark and his broken leg made that extremely hard. “I’m going to fucking kill you!” he screamed, getting increasingly more frustrated every time Kenny dodged. 

“Did you just say kill me?” Kenny reiterated as he whacked him in the head. He watched him fall to the ground, going unconscious. Kenny looked up, smiling in the direction of the night-vision camera Tolkien hid. “That’s evidence of two attempted murders for some dumb papers!”

A loud bang followed, piercing Kenny right through the skull before he even had the chance to know what hit him. 

“Let’s make that two actual murders,” the conscious attacker said, lowering the hidden gun he kept in his boot and watching Kenny’s body fall into the snow. He spit on Kenny’s corpse and ran through the forest, following Stan’s snow tracks. 

With the guidance of the map, Kyle jogged along an outer path to their tree, avoiding the commotion going on. He jumped at the sound of the very distinct sound of a gun going off and immediately started a full-fledged sprint. 

Tolkien’s panicked voice came through his ear, spurring Kyle to run faster. “Holy shit! They just killed Kenny!” Tolkien screamed into his mic, followed by the shocked and distressed yells of the rest of his friends who had an earpiece. 

“Those bastards!” Kyle yelled out between pants. He abandoned his long route and ran into the forest, heading straight toward their tree. He listened intently to Tolkien’s directions as he ran, knowing he had a much higher chance of finding Stan quickly with his help, especially if the darkness disoriented him or if he reached the tree before or after Stan. He had to get to Stan as soon as possible, before they did. He had to. 

Stan put the piece of bark back in its spot, concealing the papers in the safety of the tree, then ran in a random direction. It didn’t matter where he went, just somewhere away from the tree so they didn't check it. He didn’t know where he was running or for how long, but soon his feet started to betray him, and he stumbled. He braced his hand against the nearest tree as he caught himself. With his legs shaking and unwilling to run farther, he tried to listen for his attackers over the loud thumping of his heart in his ears. He let out a couple of long, loud breaths, trying to calm himself down. 

It was quiet beside him. Too quiet. He tried to look around, hoping to see more than indistinct silhouettes. He resisted the desperate urge to take out his phone, knowing that would put a light on him in the dark forest. His breathing was still labored, his heart still racing, but he focused on trying to hear anyone approaching. His eyes darted around, and past the blood pounding in his ears, he heard something crunch. He quickly ducked, and the tree snapped in response to a bullet lodging into it. Even though he dodged the bullet, the position he was left in was not an easy one to escape from. Another shot rang out, and his breath caught in his throat as a yell was forced out of it. Stan fell to the ground, grabbing at his shoulder as it seared with pain. 

He hissed as blood coated his hand and the pain in his shoulder intensified. His eye squinted open when he heard a soft clicking. He had been around his uncle enough to know that sound – it was someone reloading. 

His body was tired, legs weak, and right arm out of commission, but he still tried to crawl away from the noise as the man snapped the gun shut. 

The assailant yelled as he was knocked forward, stumbling to keep himself upright as Kyle jumped onto him from behind. Kyle grabbed at his arm, trying to make him drop the gun. Two shots went off in their tussle before he knocked Kyle off his back and elbowed him in the collarbone, forcing Kyle far enough away to turn toward him. Kyle pulled out the switchblade he had brought for defense and swung it in front of him, slicing whatever came into contact. The man screamed as his arm and side were slashed. He stepped back, and Kyle tried to follow him, but the ginger had no experience fighting in the dark. He looked around, not being able to distinguish trees from potential threats. 

Kyle yelled in shock as the rugged middle-aged man slammed into his midsection like a pro football player, knocking them both back until Kyle’s back smashed into a tree. The air left his lungs as he hit the tree hard enough to snap large branches off, falling around them. Kyle grunted at the pain but kept fighting, reaching his hand out to attack the guy again, but the man uppercutted him, then grabbed his head, turned him around, and smashed him face-first into the tree. Kyle fell to the ground along with a few more branches, dropping his knife as he landed on his stomach. The moonlight reflected off the blade, and Kyle reached his arm out to grab it but yelped when his fingers were smashed by a boot, pinning his hand down. 

The man moved his foot off of Kyle’s hand and sharply kicked at his side. Kyle let out a much louder pained cry and felt something snap as his body was forced onto its side. 

The assailant, his brown hair damp with sweat, panted as he looked down at Kyle. “You should have stayed out of this, boy.” Kyle looked up, making out the dark hole of the barrel pointed straight at his head. “Now die in vain.” 

Kyle was frozen, staring wide-eyed at the gun as the former policeman’s thumb clicked the magazine over. He anticipated the shot, but it never came. 

From behind the assailant, Stan found the strength to stand and picked up one of the larger, sturdier branches that fell during Kyle’s fight. With all the strength left in his body, he raised his left arm and swung as hard as he could at the man’s head. 

The brunette went down, dropping the gun and stumbling around. Stan used the branch for support and he kicked the gun far away from all of them as the man was still attempting to recover. He raised the stick up just in time to block the middle-aged man’s attempt to grab at his throat, and the two of them started to struggle. 

Kyle, fighting past the pain at his side and forehead and not focusing on why he couldn’t open his left eye, found his knife and grabbed it. From above him, he heard Stan screech out in immense pain as their aggressor got ahold of his shoulder and jabbed his thumb in his wound. The man joined Stan in hollering when Kyle surged his hand forward and stabbed as hard as he could at his ankles, sending both of them down to the ground with Kyle. 

All of them writhed on the ground, knowing that whoever was the first to get up would be the one to get out of this. Kyle cussed through labored breaths as he saw the stranger pull himself up. He clutched the knife to his chest and rolled over onto his stomach, refusing to let go of it as the fucker tried to reach under him and steal it. 

The fake policeman slammed his fist into the same side he kicked earlier, making Kyle cry out as his broken ribs were abused further, but he still refused to give up the knife. Tired of Kyle’s stubbornness, he tried to stand up and locate his gun. He looked around, and he found it, only with the assistance of bright lights reflecting off of it. 

“There! They’re over there!” Tolkien’s voice yelled in the distance. 

“Police! Don’t move!” 

The man growled. He hesitated, then slowly raised his hands up. Two officers aggressively cuffed him and started reading him his rights. Tolkien guided a few more away, taking them to Kenny, where the other guy was still knocked out. 

Kyle struggled to pick himself up and onto his good side, finally being able to see with all the bright flashlights scanning the area. “Stan,” he mumbled, looking at him. Stan was clearly in a lot of pain, eyes squeezed shut and breaths coming out in quick wheezes. Even so, he turned his head to look at Kyle. 

“Kyle!” he gasped out, getting a good look at Kyle for the first time. Half of Kyle's face was covered with blood, oozing out steadily from the giant gash above his left eye. ”You’re bleeding!” He tried to reach over, but he wasn’t in any better condition.

Kyle smiled tiredly at him. “Better me than you.” His eyes glanced down to Stan’s red-stained jacket. “Although you’re still bleeding too, so that’s a bust.” He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief. “But not enough to be dead,” he mumbled through a smile. 

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Stan said, laugh getting cut off with a sharp gasp of pain. 

“I’d do anything to save you,” Kyle continued to mumble, trying to fight the tired waves that were becoming increasingly larger. 

Stan smiled weakly at him. “Guess that makes two of us.”

Some number of cops – Kyle couldn’t focus enough to count – came up to them and checked out their wounds. They asked a few questions, but Kyle didn’t hear them; with the situation over, Stan alive next to him, and his adrenaline gone, Kyle let the exhaustion win, and he faded from consciousness. 

Chapter Text

Kyle’s eyes slowly cracked open, squeezing shut again at the bright, unnatural light assaulting his delicate vision. He raised an arm up to cover his eyes and grunted. He mumbled as he registered that someone was talking to him, and after the voice repeated themselves a few more times, he registered that she was asking him to remove his arm. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light and he started to take in the room. It didn’t take him long to realize he was in the hospital, and the nurse was patiently waiting for him to look at her. 

She smiled at him. “Glad you’re awake. How does your head feel?”

Kyle reached up to rub his head and moaned at the throbbing pain. “...Fuzzy. What time is it? How long have I been out?”

“It’s Saturday morning, deer. You took quite the hit to the head and have a few broken ribs.” She did a few tests, checking his blood pressure and asking him questions to ensure he was aware.

“How long am I going to be in here?”

“Not too much longer. No punctures from your ribs, and your head wound wasn’t too deep. You seem to be recovering nicely, and we should have you out of here by the afternoon. You have some visitors waiting in the lobby that can keep you company until we finish your discharge.”

Kyle sat up as she backed away. “Can we make it quicker?”

She smiled at him. “Eager to see someone?” She teased as she pushed him back down. 

“You have no idea.” He tried to get up again and actually whined when she pushed him down again. “Is he okay?” he asked when he knew she wasn’t going to let him get up to find Stan’s room. It then hit him that she probably had no idea who he was talking about. 

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Kyle blinked, surprised that she knew who he meant. The nurse answered his silent question by stepping to the side, revealing Stan in the other bed in the room, looking at him with an amused smirk. 

Kyle’s whole body relaxed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Stan! Thank fuck.” The nurse was nice enough to leave them, telling them she’d stall a few minutes before letting in their visitors. 

When the door closed, Kyle sat up again, grunting as the pain in his side increased.

Stan watched with worry as Kyle tried to get up. “You really should stay put.” 

Kyle stuck his tongue out at Stan, annoyed at being denied again. 

Stan laughed. “Trust me, I also want to be able to hold you right now, but you’re already hurt and I don’t want you getting hurt more. Plus, I think they’ve already had it up to here with our bullshit,” Stan said, using his good arm to cup his hand up as high as he could. “Well, my bullshit. We weren’t in the same room originally. I kept complaining and said I wouldn’t cooperate until we were.”

Kyle’s eyes fell onto Stan’s arm and the sling it was in. “Are you okay?”

Stan smiled. “Yeah. Good news! He shot me in the shoulder where I was shot as a kid. So it shouldn’t scar any worse than it already is.”

Kyle wasn’t sure if he was relieved or unamused. “It’s like your shoulders are bullet magnets.”

“Fucking feels that way.” He hissed slightly as he moved. “Never gets less painful apparently. Still hurts like a bitch.”

“Any permanent damage?”

“No, thankfully. It got stuck halfway through and missed some neck nerve thing, so that’s nice I guess. But enough about me,” Stan shifted so he was on his side, fully facing Kyle. His light hearted-smile was gone, replaced with a slightly fearful look. “I was scared shitless when you weren’t waking up.”

Kyle’s face softened. “Hey,” he said softly. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Stan’s smile came back. “And neither am I.”

Kyle found himself smiling back, and if his heart could beat any faster, he might end up getting a puncture wound. “...How mad do you think the nurses will be if I got up and kissed you right now?” Kyle asked. 

“Not mad enough.” Stan pushed his covers off and got up. Kyle sat up as well and swung his legs to the side. He tilted his head up and gladly slotted his lips against Stan as he kneeled down. They sighed into the kiss, grabbing onto each other to bring them closer, as if that was possible. 

“What are you doing?!?”

Stan pulled away with a loud smack and both of them looked at the passing nurse in the doorway – the one who had to deal with Stan’s whining until they moved him. “Did you pull out your IV to get up?!?”

“No!” Stan answered, raising his hand and showing the IV still in his hand, “I’m going to the bathroom!” Kyle laughed as Stan left and the nurse guided him to the restroom so he didn’t take any more detours. 

Kyle relaxed into the propped pillow as he waited for Stan to come back. He started looking around him, and spotted a bag filled with some of his belongings they found on him when they brought him in. He reached over and grabbed it, shuffling through the contents. He pulled out the pocket knife he used - still tainted with some blood - and twisted it in his hand. Stan lent it to Kyle a while ago when they went camping and never asked for it back. He should probably clean it before giving it back, or before he needed to use it again when Stan inevitably told him to keep it. 

He put it back in the bag and pulled out his phone next. There was some dirt on the case, but it was fine besides that. He turned it on and stared at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away from the one word on it. 

Saturday. It was Saturday, and Stan was alive and safe.  

“Any new memes in the group chats?” Kyle looked up as Stan reentered the room. “Cartman posted a pretty good one about gay people not knowing how to fight and that’s why we’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, of course he would,” Kyle commented, unamused. 

Stan leaned over Kyle’s headboard. “You’re just staring at your lock screen?”

“Yeah, I am,” Kyle said softly. 

“Glad to see it’s Saturday?” Kyle nodded. Only Stan would be able to read him so easily. “I still think you’re insane. If I had any say on it, I wouldn’t have let you into that forest.”

“Don’t you dare start blaming yourself for my injury,” Kyle cut in. “I came up with that whole plan to protect you; I’m not afraid to jump in and get physical if it means protecting you.” He held up a finger. “You’re not allowed to respond, because if it were the other way around, you would have done the same.”

“...Yeah, I would’ve.”

“Bed!” the nurse yelled from the hallway.

Stan grumbled and slumped back onto his mattress, continuing to sulk as the nurse inserted his IV tube. Kyle smiled fondly as Stan looked away when the nurse stuck the tube in, scrunching his nose. He always was squeamish when it came to hospitals. 

She left the room, almost getting bombarded by the onslaught of friends and family members running up to the door. 

Kyle barely had time to brace himself before his parents squeezed him in a tight hug. 

“Oh, Kyle! Baby! I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“I’m okay Ma, just a little scuffed up,” he responded weakly, trying not to focus on the sharp pain that filled his body when she pulled him into a hug.

“That’s a lot more than scuffed! Who would do such a thing?!?” She screamed, ready to start a war over someone trying to kill her child. 

“They’re not going to attack again, are they?” Ike asked wearily, worried for Kyle. 

“No, they can’t,” Gerald said. “Thanks to your friends, they caught the bastards.” He looked at Kyle’s head bandage, then over to Stan’s wrapped arm and butterfly band-aids. “I can’t believe I almost got you two killed,” Gerald said somberly. 

Sheila let go of Kyle so she could glare at her husband. “What were you thinking Gerald? Getting the kids involved in something so dangerous!”

“I know, I'm sorry, I was desperate! I didn’t think they would go that far… I should have thought better than that.” He smiled, avoiding his wife’s angry glare. “But this was just the kick we needed. We already got a confession out of one of them and they admitted it was all to cover up Horizon Enterprises. With that and the evidence Stan was holding onto, that unjust company will be taken care of by the end of the month!” He turned to Stan, who was looking back at him through Sharon’s arm still wrapped around his head. “Where did you put them? I’m ready to put a stop to these guys before they attack my family again.”

Stan blinked at Gerald, then cleared his throat. “Uh… they’re in a tree.”

Everyone in the room looked at Stan, not expecting that response. Everyone looked confused – all but Kyle, obviously. 

Gerald blinked at him. “A… A tree?”

“Yeah.”

“You put important classified documents that criminals were desperately searching for in a tree?”

“Well, they weren’t always in the tree, that was a last-minute decision.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But they didn’t look there! Kinda too busy attacking me to go look.”

Gerald was at a loss for words. “Right… I’ll just go get those after we leave,” he said, deciding Stan had gone through enough torment regarding the case.

More heads poked through the doorway, their friends sneaking in despite the hospital workers telling them they needed to take turns visiting since they exceeded the visitor limit. 

Stan and Kyle were bombarded with gifts and companions to entertain them while stuck in the hospital. Even Cartman visited, but it was not clear if it was because he cared or if he wanted to see how fucked up they got, jokingly saying he wondered how much it would take to ‘finish them off.’ The distractions were nice, and the staff's assistance was helpful when they had to leave. 

Stan’s family came over for dinner so they could take care of their children together, or so they said. It was obvious the real reason was that Stan and Kyle were not about to separate after being denied even holding hands while in the hospital. In reality, it was the grownups lamenting together about the hardships they had just gone through – not their children themselves – while Kyle coddled Stan anytime he needed to do something as simple as get a drink of water. Stan tried to do the same, but it was harder without a limb. He still attempted to assist Kyle when he tried to get up to do something, just poorly. Not that Kyle did much better when he tried to do something for Stan. Most of the time it ended with one of them stretching their wounds and going back to the couch, eventually getting one of their mothers to help them when they gave up. 

They ended up just laying on the couch for hours because they didn’t want the other to get up and do something for them. Not that either of them minded. It was honestly the only thing they wanted to do after the night they had previously. 

Stan didn’t even flinch when his parents got up to leave after dusk. Sharon lightly kissed his forehead and told him he could spend the night as long as Sheila was okay with it and he didn’t give them any extra trouble. 

Kyle’s parents also left them alone, going upstairs for the night, and Ike got on a videogame call, leaving them alone to lounge in awkward positions while eating junk food and watching lighthearted movies they loved as kids. Kyle had a hard time finding a comfortable position and his side hurt like hell, and Stan struggled to keep his arm from bumping into anything anytime he moved, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Kyle flinched at the loud noise, waking him up from a dead sleep. His body tensed and his whole being was filled with an unmistakable feeling of dread at the sound. 

No! It was supposed to be the weekend. He finally got the ending they worked so hard for! Was Kenny’s theory wrong?

Kyle stiffened as his body moved, not by his choice. His face was shoved deeper into his pillow, but he could hear something scraping against his nightstand. Only then did he realize that wasn’t the sound of his alarm clock.

Kyle’s body moved back down, and the ringing stopped. 

“Hello? Mom?” Stan groggily said into his phone. 

Kyle relaxed as Stan talked to his mother, shuffling comfortably back into Stan’s chest, which he had previously assumed was a pillow. Despite the harsh wake-up, he felt much more well-rested than he had any time in the loop. Kyle stared blankly at Stan’s shirt as he listened to Stan’s side of the phone call. 

“I’m doing what every teenager is doing at 8 AM on a Sunday,” Stan said, followed by a yawn. 

Sunday.

Kyle was starting to think he’d never hear that word. 

“...Yeah. I can ask. I’m sure they expected me to stay kinda late into the day anyway. Why?”

Even though Kyle couldn’t hear Sharon, it was pretty obvious they were talking about Stan staying over longer, which was more than fine with him. He shifted to get closer to the receiver so he could hear the other end of the conversation, but his broken ribs were quick to deny that. He gave up on trying to hear the other end, but still moved his head so he could look at Stan.

Stan’s eyes were closed, trying to both wake up and process what his mother was saying. Kyle got very curious when Stan's brows furrowed, followed by what he could only describe as an ‘are you fucking kidding me’ expression.

“He…” Stan said, and Kyle heard his mom’s voice rise on the other end, clearly annoyed as well. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Called it. There was some more ranting from the other line. “Did it catch fire?... Of course it did. Did it blow up?” 

Kyle’s body rose as Stan took in a deep breath, letting it out in a very long sigh. His right arm moved up out of habit to pinch his nose, but the pain from his bullet wound stopped him. 

“Okay. Yeah, I’m staying out of that. Thanks, Mom. Bye.” Stan tossed his phone, not caring where it landed. 

“Randy?”

Stan let out another exasperated sigh, using his good hand to emphasize his frustration now that he wasn’t on the phone. “The dumbass tried to light the electric fireplace with propane and blew up half the wall.”

Kyle tried to hold in his laughter but it escaped anyway, followed by a sharp breath because of his wounded diaphragm.

Stan wrapped his left arm around Kyle and rubbed his thumb against Kyle’s shoulder. 

“Does that mean you’re staying with me until it’s fixed?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if it’s offered.”

“Good. Guess I’ll have to blow up a bigger hole in the wall every time I want you to spend the night.”

Stan chuckled. “You don’t have to destroy my house to get me to come over. I’d prefer to be here anyway.”

“I would too,” Kyle mumbled into Stan’s shirt. 

Stan let his head fall back as they lay in silence for a few minutes, thinking about Friday night. His train of thought was disrupted when he felt his shirt tighten around Kyle’s clenched fists. “Hey,” he said softly, pushing away his own emotions to focus on Kyle when he heard a sharp breath come from him. He helped them both into a seated position and cupped Kyle’s cheeks as Kyle tried to wipe the tears away.

“Sorry,” Kyle mumbled out once his breath regulated. “I’m just… fuck.” He struggled to describe the wave of emotions flooding him. All the sorrow and anger that had built up over the three days that made up his last couple of months, all the emotions he hadn’t let himself feel or that were too strong to fade, surfaced all at once now that it was over. 

Kyle reached out and pulled Stan closer, resting his face on his boyfriend's shoulder. “There was a point where I thought this moment wouldn’t happen.”

Stan wrapped his arms around Kyle and lightly rested his head against his. He also let the month’s stresses, coupled with what happened Friday night, come out, and they both let it out, holding onto each other like they were afraid it wasn’t real. 

“Tell me where you’re going,” Kyle said once his sobs started to slow. 

“Nowhere,” Stan responded, his voice raspy from his own crying. “Thanks to you, I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

Kyle pulled back enough so he could look at Stan. His eyes started to dry, and he smiled. “You have no idea how badly I needed to hear that.” He closed the gap between them, sharing an equally desperate kiss. If it weren’t for their wounds, it would have escalated beyond grabbing each other’s faces and a sloppy makeout, but unfortunately, Kyle couldn’t put any pressure on his chest to deepen their connection. 

They giggled when they were forced to stop from their weakened states. “You’re going to be so sick of me by the time we can move around normally again because I am not leaving your sight,” Kyle said, interlocking their fingers. 

Stan smiled. “Literally impossible. But I’d like to see you try because that would mean you’d have to be around me.”

“Like I’d need a motivational reason to stick to you like glue. I already admitted I’d blow up your house if I needed to get you to come over.”

They shared a few more chaste kisses before slowly getting up and helping each other get ready. Kyle helped Stan put on his shirt and sling, and Stan helped Kyle get dressed and grab anything that required bending down or reaching up. 

In the middle of their breakfast, Kyle caught Stan staring at the back door. For the first time in a while, he didn’t look distant or worried, but content and relaxed. 

“It’s a sunny day, for once. Don’t get a lot of those here in South Park,” Stan said, still looking out over the horizon. 

“You want to go get some fresh air?” Kyle asked, and Stan nodded. 

Kyle watched as Stan took in a deep breath and reached his good arm up in the sky as he stretched. He smiled at the rising sun, enjoying the warmth it provided on his skin. Kyle enjoyed the nice weather too, but he was much more mesmerized watching the beauty in front of him. 

They carefully helped each other up to sit on one of the lower branches of the giant tree in the backyard. Stan hummed and kicked his feet in the air, a small smile still on his face. 

Stan felt Kyle’s eyes on him and turned to face him. “What are you looking at?”

“It’s just… you look so much happier.”

“I am.” Stan put up his left hand in defense. “I was happy before, don’t get me wrong, but I guess I didn’t realize how stressed those stalkers were making me. Guess I was right to be paranoid about them. In hindsight I should have been more worried than I let myself be. I just didn’t want to put you in danger by opening my mouth.

“But now they’re gone, and won’t be bothering either of us anymore.” He took another deep breath, a smile returning to his face. “I feel like an anvil has been lifted off my chest.”

Kyle smirked. “That was just me getting off.”

Stan let out a hearty laugh. “You're no anvil. Get over here.”

Kyle giggled as Stan wrapped his arm around him and carefully leaned Kyle on his shoulder. If they weren’t both injured or on a raggedy tree branch, he would have put him on his lap. 

Kyle rested his hand on Stan’s lower thigh. “So, no more baggy, gothy clothes?”

Stan chuckled. “No more baggy, edgy clothes. No more zoning out or being distant.” He took Kyle’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “You have my full attention. Always have, really.” And he did, since this whole ordeal was focused on keeping Kyle safe.

“Are you going to look into college applications now?”

“Yeah, I should get started on that.”

Kyle smiled and rested his head between Stan’s good shoulder and neck. “I’ll help you out. I’ve gotten a lot of practice.” Stan hummed and leaned his head against Kyle’s.

They looked up when the sliding door opened aggressively – way too aggressively for his family when they hadn’t done anything to get them in trouble. 

Kyle sat up and smiled brightly when he saw Kenny standing there, arms fully extended on the open door and slightly out of breath. 

“Hey, Ken. Where’ve you been?” Stan asked when Kenny was looking at him with wide eyes. 

Kenny let out a relieved, breathy laugh. “Stan! Holy fuck, you’re here!”

“He is,” Kyle said, softly but sincerely. 

“Are you guys alright? I was told you guys were hospitalized!”

“We’re fine,” Kyle responded. “Nothing worse than we’ve had before.”

Kenny relaxed, finally letting himself smile and rejoice. He forced them into a group hug and stacked two chairs on each other to sit facing them at the same height of the tree branch. 

God, it was good to see Kenny. Maybe it was because of the time loop, but Kyle remembered Tolkien saying he was killed, but he believed Kenny when he said he’d be back if something happened; that was the only reason he let him go in alone. “It’s good to see you, Kenny. And on this perfect Sunday.”

Kenny chuckled. “You have no idea how unexpected and nonrepetitive this morning was!”

Kyle laughed. He had a little bit of an idea, but Kenny woke up not knowing the plan worked and probably assumed it was Thursday again. He must have run over immediately when he heard the news, which was why he was out of breath. 

“Is that good or bad?” Stan asked, confused.

“It’s fucking fantastic! It was almost a joy getting annoyed at trying to figure out what happened Friday after I was gone. It took me forever to get a cohesive story about what happened.”

“Did you run all the way to my house to find me and see the hole my stupid dad created in the wall?” Stan asked flatly.

Kenny blinked, then cocked his head. “What the fuck did he do? I kind of want to go there now.” Kenny smiled as Stan shook his head in disappointment at the memory of his conversation with his mother over the phone. “No, I didn’t waste my time checking there, because it was really easy to find out where you were.”

Stan looked at him confused for a second before his eyes and neck snapped to his right. 

Kyle saw the sharp movement of Stan’s head and followed his gaze. He blinked at the sight of all the eyes of their friends peering over the fence.

“Told ya I wasn’t the only one eager to check up on you two,” Kenny said, his smirk evident in his voice. 

Stan and Kyle shared a look. Kyle nodded, and Stan waved them over. “Don’t just stand there like a bunch of creeps! I’ve had enough of that! Jump the fence already if you’re going to stick around!”

A split second later, all their friends hopped over (or got some assistance) and came up to them.

“Can’t two boyfriends enjoy each other's company alone anymore?” Kyle teased as they all approached.

“No,” Tweek and Craig said in unison, knowing from experience. 

“Just think of this as punishment for making us have to cancel dinner,” Clyde said.

“And not punishment for probably causing thousands of dollars in property damage when sabotaging the festival?” Kyle asked.

“Nope! Because they don’t know that was us!” Clyde said proudly.

“And because the mayor is still desperate to make a good name for herself, she's rescheduling it for next Saturday,” Wendy added.

Craig pointed a finger at Stan menacingly. “You better not almost get murdered again at that one too, Marsh.”

Stan smirked back at him. “I’ll try not to.”

“Do we have to wait till next Saturday to have dinner though?” Clyde whined. “I got my dad to give me money for it, and he’ll take it back if I don’t use it.”

“Just use it for something else,” Craig offered. He rolled his eyes as Clyde called him a genius. 

“I have time to go get lunch now, assuming you don’t mind us girls joining you,” Wendy said, nudging Bebe’s shoulder.

“Let’s go to Bennigan's!” Butters suggested cheerfully.

“I’m down for some Bennigan's,” Kenny concurred. The group all agreed and headed out – through the door this time. Stan somehow managed to help Kyle carefully get down on the ground again one-handed.

“What a crazy weekend,” Stan voiced once the others were out of earshot and busy talking about carpooling.

“You have no fucking idea.”

“Ky?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know I was going to be in the forest?” Stan asked, no longer able to resist his curiosity. “I didn’t even know I was going to be there, and you all came up with a plan to catch stalkers I never mentioned. That's like some time loop knowledge bullshit.” Kyle stiffened. “...What, is it actually?”

    “Why was time loop your first guess?” Kyle asked back, not denying it and thereby giving Stan his answer. “It took me like three loops before I accepted it myself, and I didn’t even say anything to you.”

Stan smirked. “Seems like some dumb gay shit that would only happen in this town.” He got serious again. “Are we still in it?”

“No,” Kyle said, smiling gently. He reached up, closing his eyes as he pressed his lips against Stan’s, the kiss soft and unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. When they parted, he took Stan’s hand, leaning into him as they trailed loosely behind their friends. “We made it through. Together.”