Chapter Text
Today the weather was quite cold in South Park, Colorado. The new school year had just started, and Stan Marsh thought that this year was going to be a lot weirder than before. This was just a hunch, but a strong one. A really strong one. And not really groundless.
It had all started with a phone call from Eric Cartman at 2 AM. Cartman had wanted to know if Stan was ready for the new school year, and he had told him a thousand times that his intentions were completely innocent, and that he wasn’t calling so late to get his friend out of bed.
“Dude, it’s two in the morning,” Stan had mumbled into the receiver, his voice cracking from sleep.
“Yeah, but like… are you ready for school?” Cartman had replied, suspiciously chipper.
“Why would you even care?”
“I don’t care, I’m just being a good friend, Stan. A better friend than Kyle, by the way. He didn’t call you, did he?”
Stan had groaned and tried to hang up, but Cartman had launched into a long speech about seating charts, government conspiracies, and how the cafeteria meatloaf was probably made of pandas this year. He had even sworn – on his “honor as a future billionaire” – that he wasn’t doing this to keep Stan awake.
It was a big fat lie, of course. Anyway, his plan had worked – Stan couldn’t go back to sleep, and instead had started to imagine all the stupid things that might happen; for example, the new seating arrangement. It changed every year, and Stan would rather have paid that fuckass Cartman twenty bucks (again) than sit next to that smelly weird kid whose name he didn’t even know. Not that he cared, but anyway. The other thing he was really worried about was the timetable. At the end of the previous year, the teachers had threatened the class that this year would be much tougher than the last, and Stan, who was not exactly the nerdy type (because that was something the weird kids did, and he cared a lot about his reputation), dreaded the thought of the inevitable avalanche of classes.
By morning, the cold air outside bit even harder than Cartman’s insults. Stan trudged down the street toward school with his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, the kind of morning where every breath felt like it might freeze in his throat. The sidewalk was littered with dirty slush from last night’s frost, and the sky hung low and gray, like it already knew something he didn’t. He caught sight of a few other kids shuffling toward the building – some half-asleep, some buzzing with way too much energy for this hour – and he wondered if any of them could feel it too, that weird something humming in the air. It wasn’t just the cold. It was…something else. Something Cartman-shaped, probably.
He briefly looked up at the beige building towering above him, let out a sigh that rose like white smoke toward the clouds, then pushed open the massive double doors and glanced down the hallway. Dozens of students were loitering around, chatting with shoulder bags slung over their shoulders, some leaning against the orange lockers or rummaging through them, and Stan immediately felt the oddly nostalgic back-to-school vibe hit him. He fiddled in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a tiny key with the number forty-two engraved on it. He began making his way toward the locker, but someone was already standing next to it, and the sight of him made Stan break into a wide smile.
“So we’re still locker neighbors, huh?” He remarked playfully as he stepped beside him.
Kyle glanced at him, rolled his eyes, then grinned.
“I think we’ll be stuck like that forever. You can’t escape me.”
“Not that I’d want to…”
Kyle Broflovski, his best friend, was still exactly the same as Stan remembered him from years ago. He was wearing a dark green sweater and brown corduroy pants, his black high-top Converse shoes had seen better days, and an over-the-shoulder bag hung from his shoulder. He no longer wore his ushanka hat – since they weren't allowed to wear hats or hoods during school hours – so his curly red hair was free to hang messily in his face. His gaze was all-knowing, commanding, yet playful, and his eyes reminded Stan of emeralds. His face was dotted with faint freckles, and his nose was slightly crooked. Just like always, Stan thought.
“So, what’s your first class?” Kyle broke the silence. His piercing green eyes were scanning Stan, who cleared his throat and averted his gaze from his friend.
“Biology, I think. You?”
“Math.”
Stan let out a sympathetic grunt.
“Not again,” Kyle laughed. His voice was surprisingly pleasant. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound.”
“Oh really?” Stan crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Sorry dude, I almost forgot how much of a nerd you are.”
“How dare you!” Kyle mockingly slammed his locker door shut, stuffed a light blue notebook into his bag, and poked Stan in the chest. “As if it’s such a terrible thing that I put time and effort into my studies instead of being a brainless idiot like you!”
“You really hurt my feelings,” Stan burst into laughter. He grabbed Kyle’s wrist and pushed himself away from him. “You have no idea how many pieces you’ve shattered my heart into…” he sighed theatrically, forcing a few fake tears to fall from his eyes to make his soap opera moment more believable. Still holding Kyle’s hand, he pulled him a little closer. “How could you do this to me?!”
“Isn’t it a little early for the drama? Especially in front of poor Butters?” A voice behind them interrupted, and Stan instantly turned around. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.
Eric Cartman stood there, raising an eyebrow, leaning against the row of lockers. In one hand, he held a mustard-yellow backpack that had seen better days, and in the other, a huge sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil, from which he took such an enthusiastic bite that both boys simultaneously cringed in disgust.
“You hippies are gross, go make out somewhere else,” Cartman continued between two – naturally open-mouthed – bites. “You’re already trying to steal the ‘adorable gay couple’ spotlight from Craig and Tweek? Weak, guys.”
Stan shot a glance sideways. Kyle, now standing beside him, had his arms crossed and was glaring at Cartman. Stan could’ve sworn he saw steam coming from his ears.
“Is this really how you spend your time? Picking on us?”
“That’s not the case at all. You know, unlike you, I’m trying to protect the poor souls who haven’t been infected by the rapidly spreading yaoi culture. I’m doing everything I can to save them,” Cartman gestured toward the boy standing beside him.
Butters Stotch, all one hundred and eighty-four centimeters of him, was grinning widely and looked nothing like someone who needed protection from anything. When he noticed they were looking at him, he tilted his head and started waving.
“Hey, fellas!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve missed you all so much, I couldn’t wait to be in the same classes again!”
“Butters… we saw each other almost every day over the summer,” Kyle furrowed his brow.
“Well, that’s not the same,” Butters pouted. “I like sitting next to you in class, chatting during breaks, and gossiping about everyone during lunch. I didn’t get any of that during the summer.”
Stan smiled. Butters had always been an eternally happy, naive guy, and he had used to look down on him for it. But now, not so much. In fact, if anything, he envied his carefree happiness.
“Where’s Kenny? You guys seen him?” Cartman broke the silence. “I’ve called him like nine times but that fucking hippie hasn’t bothered to answer.”
“He’s running late. He overslept,” Butters mentioned. “He said he might make it by the second period, but I think he’ll probably be here by the third.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“You didn’t ask,” Butters blinked.
Stan quietly listened to the heated exchange – Butters had really grown over the years and no longer let Cartman steamroll him; in fact, he’d even picked up a few sharp comebacks from his friends – but it didn’t take long for him to get bored. He stifled a yawn, then looked over at Kyle, meeting his gaze instantly. The emerald green eyes now sparkled with amusement.
“They’re starting early today,” Kyle noted. He adjusted the bag strap over his shoulder, glanced at the old-fashioned watch on his wrist, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. “One minute, and the bell will ring. Do you think we should tell them, or just leave them here?”
“You ask like you don’t know the answer,” Stan laughed. He playfully nudged Kyle with his shoulder, then started walking down the hallway with quick steps.
“Good luck with biology, I guess,” Kyle grinned as they stopped in front of a classroom with glass doors.
“I’ll be fine. Especially when I’m thinking about how you’ll be struggling with math first thing Monday morning,” Stan shot back, adding a wink for effect.
“You asshole..."
“Sorry not sorry!”
The first period was boring as hell. Stan had spent the entire class absentmindedly twirling his pen between his fingers, lost in thought. About his morning, about summer memories—really, about everything. As much as he missed the carefree feeling he’d had for months - no schoolwork, sleeping in as late as he wanted, and no teachers breathing down his neck about assignments he hadn’t even started - he had to admit that Butters had been right. He missed how close-knit their group was, even if Kenny was still late to literally every single day, Cartman was still a complete asshole, and Kyle… well, Kyle was the one he missed every single minute of every single day. They were best friends, after all - or something like that.
At least now it wasn’t just about hanging out, playing video games, or sneaking off into the nearby woods anymore – though they had spent most of their summer doing exactly that. It had started when Kenny found some kind of bunker-like spot near a clearing, and after that, it just became a routine to sneak out at night, enjoying their teenage freedom. These days, though, they spent almost all their time together – talking and laughing. Stan loved laughing with Kyle. Somehow, they were always on the same wavelength – maybe it was their equally messed-up sense of humor, or maybe they just found each other’s company funny in ways they wouldn’t with anyone else. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that every single time, Stan caught himself feeling grateful for having such an amazing best friend. Even when Kyle was being insufferably know-it-all. Somehow, even that was kind of an endearing quality.
He only realized he’d started chewing on his pen when the teacher’s voice was drowned out by the obnoxiously loud ringing of the bell. The lesson had probably been about perennials or something – he had no idea. He didn’t really care either. All that mattered was that the class was finally over.
When he reached the lockers, number forty-three was already open. Kyle was stuffing most of his bag’s contents inside and was holding a calculator in his hand when Stan walked up beside him.
“So? How was math?” he asked.
Kyle looked up, tossed the calculator into his locker, and shrugged.
“It was fine. Not very exciting. Turns out everyone’s even less motivated to study than last year.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Stan chuckled, reaching up to pluck a crumpled paper ball out of Kyle’s red curls. “Don’t know what you were expecting.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
“I swear, you two are disgusting. If I’d known this is what I was walking into, I wouldn’t have shown up.” Cartman had reappeared beside them, earning yet another unimpressed eye-roll from Kyle. “You could’ve at least warned me that you’d be too busy being gay to function.”
“Shut up, fatass.” Kyle grabbed Stan’s shoulder and pulled him closer. “You’re just trying to hide the fact that you don’t have any friends. Butters, don’t even start!” he added, pointing at the tall blond who had just arrived. Butters quickly shut his mouth with a grin and made a zipping motion across his lips.
“You guys are so mean!” Cartman whined, crossing his arms and pouting dramatically at them.
Stan tried to hold back a laugh as he watched the scene unfold, doing his best to ignore the fact that Kyle’s arm was still slung casually around his shoulders and that his gloveless hand was fiddling with the drawstring on Stan’s hoodie. Instead, he half-listened to the ongoing argument, his eyes scanning the hallway for a particular person – whom he spotted moments later.
Wendy Testaburger was twirling a strand of black hair around her finger while talking to some upperclassman. When she noticed Stan watching, she smiled and waved before turning back to her conversation. It had been years since they’d both realized that “being a couple” just didn’t really work for them, and after finally giving up on their three-and-a-half-year on-and-off relationship, they’d stayed friends. Their friendship was much healthier now; they’d figured out that they actually got along way better when they weren’t constantly worrying about making each other happy. Still, Stan didn’t regret that they had once been something. Wendy was smart, gorgeous – probably too good for him, honestly – and she had been the perfect first relationship. He’d learned a lot from her about romance – mostly what not to do if he ever dated again, though he’d never admit that to anyone, not even himself – and for that, he’d always be grateful.
“Stan! Hello?”
Stan blinked and realized Kyle was waving a hand in front of his face. His arm was no longer around his shoulders, and for some reason, that made Stan feel… weirdly empty.
“What?” he asked blankly. He looked around and noticed the hallway was almost completely empty now. Only Wendy, the upperclassman, Kyle, and him were still there. “Where did everyone go?”
“To class. Which, by the way, we should also be heading to.” Kyle was glaring at him, though the corners of his mouth kept twitching like he was trying not to laugh. “I just thought I’d wait until His Majesty finished daydreaming.”
“Sorry,” Stan said with a sheepish smile.
“It’s fine. You can continue during literature.”
Stan’s mouth fell open.
“We have literature next?”
“Uh-huh. Why do you look so happy about that?”
“'Cuz we have that together!”
Kyle let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
“If that excites you this much…” he said, smiling. “Let me remind you, whatever you’re planning, no, I’m not playing along. I’m here to actually learn something.”
“Oh come on, Ky, you’re such a nerd!” Stan teased, watching Kyle’s grin grow just a little wider at the nickname. “You’d really choose some boring poet’s miserable life over playing with me?”
“Poets aren’t boring, Stan! There’s a reason we study them!”
Kyle launched into a full-on rant, and Stan rolled his eyes with a grin. By then they were heading up the stairs to the first floor, and Kyle didn’t stop talking all the way to the classroom door.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” Stan said, holding his hands up in mock defense, a smile tugging at his lips. “None of the poets were stupid, alright? You can focus on them instead of me.”
They both took their seats at the wooden desks and began unpacking their stuff. Then Kyle turned to Stan again, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“You know I won’t, though.”
They both pulled out their phones, and the moment their teacher stepped into the room, they shared a grin – then started up the game at the exact same time.
The remaining classes were just as boring as the first. Mondays were always the worst – Stan only had one single class with his friends, and he found that deeply unfair. When Butters had mentioned that morning how excited he was to have fun together like last year, Stan had pictured some kind of earthly paradise. Throwing paper balls at each other, passing notes, working on group projects that were really just excuses to talk and laugh, scrolling through their phones under the desk… Instead, he’d spent the whole day sitting alone, his only company being his pen – which he had almost completely chewed to pieces, despite having bought it (or found it?) just a week ago.
Lunch break felt like a breath of fresh air. He dropped his tray onto their table, let out a long, tired sigh, and met Butters’s eyes across from him. The blond boy smiled faintly in response. Next to him, Kenny – perpetually late as always – was munching on his sandwich, wrapped in his orange parka from neck to toe. The jacket had accumulated even more stains since last year, though Kenny didn’t seem to care. His messy dark blond hair stuck out in every direction, and the silver earrings in his ears glinted under the yellowish cafeteria lights.
“Finally found the school, Kenny?” Stan grinned. “About time.”
“Nice to see you too, Stan,” Kenny rolled his eyes. “Some of us have better things to do than rot in here all day, you know?”
“Believe me, I would too,” Stan groaned. “I woke up painfully early today.”
“Like we all did, Stan!” Cartman whined. “You can’t imagine how tired I was this morning!”
“Maybe you wouldn’t be if you didn’t call me at two in the morning…”
“Let’s forget the past, man!”
Stan shook his head and raised an eyebrow.
“Where’s Kyle?” he asked, which immediately earned a snort from Cartman.
“Why? Miss your little Jewish boyfriend already? Can’t spend a second apart, huh?” he said in a thin, exaggerated voice. “It’s just so disgustingly adorable how you can’t exist without each other! A dash of yaoi with my fried chicken, exactly what I needed! I’m so happy I get to be friends with two disgustingly cute gays!”
Kenny burst out laughing, pressing a napkin to his nose to keep the milk he’d been drinking from coming out.
“I think you guys are cute,” Butters smiled brightly. “It’s nice to see you finally found each other.”
Kenny pressed the napkin even harder against his nose, laughing so much that tears began to spill from his eyes.
“Cartman, go to hell,” Stan said, stabbing his fork into his meat hard enough to scrape the plate underneath. “Butters, we’re not together. Sorry to ruin your dreams.”
“Aw, hamburgers,” the blond boy pouted sadly.
“Anyway,” Stan continued, “does anyone know where Kyle is?”
“I think he’s at the student council office. Some kinda gay meeting or whatever,” Cartman said through a mouthful of food. “You know, talking about really important stuff, as always.”
Kyle had been part of the student council for three years now, which was relevant because after every single meeting, he felt the irresistible need to tell the others what they’d discussed. It was an incredibly boring and not-at-all-interesting topic – but Stan always listened anyway, because… well, he didn’t really have a choice.
“Cool,” Stan nodded. “Then I’ll wait for him in front of the school.”
A few minutes later, Kenny and Cartman slung their backpacks over their shoulders, ready to leave. Butters did the same, but instead of following them, he turned back and looked at Stan with his head tilted to the side.
“You want me to wait with you? Maybe time will pass faster that way,” he offered kindly. Stan smiled at the gesture.
“Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”
They sat down on the two chairs outside the student council office. For a few minutes, neither of them said a word. Butters tapped his long legs lightly against the laminated floor before finally speaking up.
“So… doesn’t it bother you that everyone keeps saying you and Kyle are dating?”
Stan thought about it for a moment. The truth was – it never really had. Sure, he’d wanted to punch Cartman countless times over it, but not because of what he said, more because of how he said it. The idea of him and Kyle was more funny than annoying.
“No,” he shook his head. “We both learned to take it as a joke. Kyle and I have been best friends for, what, fourteen years now? It was bound to happen eventually, that people would start seeing something more than there actually is.”
“I see,” Butters smiled. “Then you understand why I thought differently, right? You’re not mad at me for it?”
“Of course not! It’s just… you know, things don’t always have to be complicated. Sometimes things really are as simple and nice as they seem. Like the fact that we’re just friends. And I don’t think it could ever be anything more.”
At that exact moment, the door next to them flew open. Kyle stepped out, running his fingers through his red curls, his expression so serious and commanding that Stan immediately thought that if Kyle ordered him to kill someone right then, he probably would, without hesitation. But then Kyle looked at them, and his face softened. His eyes were warm, his smile gentle.
“What are you guys still doing here?” he asked in his soft, familiar voice, as if he hadn’t just stormed out like a man on a mission.
“Waiting for you,” Stan said, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought we could walk home together. You know, since we’re basically neighbors and all.”
“Oh… sure! Thanks for waiting.”
On the walk home, they mostly listened to Butters rambling. Stan noticed that the blond boy talked way more when Cartman wasn’t around – and honestly, who could blame him? Cartman had practically held him hostage since third grade, though that grip seemed to loosen more and more with each passing month. Stan often wished he could do something to help, but deep down, he knew it was hopeless. The only people who willingly fought Cartman were those who had nothing left to lose. And Kyle. That was one of Kyle’s most admirable traits.
“Well… I’ll leave you guys here,” Butters said as they reached his house. “See you tomorrow, fellas!”
“See you,” Stan waved, and Kyle did the same.
Once again, they were left alone on the sidewalk, and the silence suddenly felt heavy. Stan glanced sideways at Kyle, studying the strands of red hair peeking out from under his green ushanka, the ones falling into his eyes. Then he looked up at the sky.
“Long day,” he muttered.
“No kidding,” Kyle huffed. “And it’s only the first one.”
“Hey, I thought you enjoyed it!”
“If you call me a nerd again, I swear–”
They both started laughing.
Stan listened to Kyle’s laughter, and a strange warmth spread through his chest – the kind of happiness he’d been missing all day. The kind that nothing else could replace.
They both looked up at the Marsh house and sighed at almost the exact same time.
“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Stan mumbled. “Try not to study yourself to death, nerd.”
“One day, I’m actually going to kill you,” Kyle said, shaking his head with a smile. Then he turned and started walking away. Stan watched him go for a long time before finally heading inside, up to his room, and collapsing onto his bed.
It had been a long day. A very, very long day.
And it was only the first.