The Drug in Me is You

Chapter 2: Rosemary

Kyle takes a deep breath of the San Diego air. Letting the somewhat fresh air fill his lungs until he can't hold in his breath anymore and lets it out. An annoying three hour flight that Stan insisted he would pay for even after Kyle insisted that he didn't have to but paid for anyway.

He couldn't remember Stan ever being as nice as he was now. He would've told him to figure it out himself if they were still teenagers. He remembered a time from when they were only the ripe age of sixteen. He told Stan that he couldn't find anybody he would split a twenty dollar bill with him, and Stan being as dense as he was told him that, that was too bad. He remembers being generally pissed off at his once super best-friend. Refusing to talk to him for over a day until he got bored and ran right back to him, acting as if he didn't just ignore Stan for a whole day and striking up a conversation on which he cannot remember.

Though the faint memory gave him a chuckle. It was something he cherished deeply. He found that over the years, his hatred for Stan began to fade. He used to hate him for leaving him alone. He despised him for it. He remembered the promise he and the gang gave Kenny. Promising the once poor boy that they'd save up money to get him into college only for Stan to up and leave with him and Butters college money and book it for San fucking Diego. One part of him is indubiously ashamed by Stan's past actions and another part of him is trying to reason with the other part of him to prove that Stan had some kind of reason for leaving.

It was an endless battle between both sides and his heart was smack dab in the middle, hopelessly trying to keep the pieces of his once shattered heart together. It worried him. He was afraid of what could happen. Especially since he hasn't seen Stan in years. The last time they had been together was when they were at the local theater together. The day where he swore that he could feel his heart shatter like a fragile, porcelain plate. He felt as if the pieces of said heart dropped down into his stomach and fizzled up into nothing but stomach acid.

He remembers the emotionally damaging tears that flowed down his face, it felt like hot lava trickling down his cheeks. Burning every piece of skin that it came in contact with before dropping hazardously onto his clothes, seeping through the fabric just to burn the skin that lay untainted and sensitive underneath it. He felt as if his emotions were contagious. Something that if some unexpecting person breathed in they'd get infected with his sorrowful virus of mournful emotions, affecting all those around him. He can still remember the hurtful way he ignored his once super best friend. Cutting any kind of eye contact that they would've made and walking away when he approached.

It was almost petty in a way. Allowing his feelings to get in the way of an almost perfect friendship and projecting his feelings onto someone who didn't intentionally deserve it. That someone being, well, Butters. He was often giving him rude looks when they passed each other in the hall and giving him a scowl or two when said blonde gave him a friendly wave and or smile, especially when he saw Stan and Butters together. Stan nor Butters knew that he had feelings for his childhood best friend, and it wasn't their fault that they didn't.

Maybe if he just told them, told Stan, things would be different. Things could've been different. Maybe--, just maybe, he could've gotten to Stan before Butters did. Maybe he could've been the shoulder that Stan could constantly lean on for support. The person Stan would love. The one he'd run away with. The one he'd cherish instead of the one he chose.

BEEP. BEEP.

Kyle jumped at the sound, turning his head around in a frantic manner to check where the sound was coming from. After a couple of crazed head turns he finally found where said sound was coming from, seeing a large, hairy arm coming out the drivers side of a rolled down window, their big hand waving in Kyle's direction

At first, he was confused. Unbeknownst to whom this person was. But once they pulled up to the curb, rolling down the passenger side window, he knew who it was. The face was so familiar yet so much like Randy Marsh, Stan Marsh's father. His stubble was a dark patch of black and his hair slightly thinning, definitely not getting his father's miraculous head of hair but at least he still had hair, right? If anything he could have looked like Craig Tucker, a former classmate of Kyle. Stan was graying at the side of his hair, going from his sideburns and slowly up to the rest of his hair. He was wearing a red long sleeve shirt with a brown sweater vest over it.

He's a big hairy man, exactly how he expected him to be. Some kids would say he had something like a 'dad bod'. He was smart enough to know what that means instead of looking it up and getting hit with heavy amounts of 'XXX''s videos, but it still raised the question on why it was called such a thing when Stan wasn't even a dad. It was silly to call someone a dad just for having a certain body type, but then again, he is late to the trends. By late he means extremely late. The type of slang kids use now is absolutely silly, but he can't say anything since he and his friends used slang quite often when they were younger.

He opened the passenger door, throwing himself inside and placing his duffel bag on the carpet below his feet. He puts his seat belt on, looking at Stan, up close, for the first time in thirty-two years, admiring how much he's aged, how much he's changed. He's absolutely beautiful.

Stan gives him a warm smile, placing his big hand on his shoulder and giving it a slight shake. Earning a small laugh to escape his lips. Stan retracted his hand once that small laugh escaped, but he caught a glimpse of something gold, something like a wedding ring. He looked closely at his hand only to see that gold, shining band around Stan's ring finger.

The sight alone formed a heavy lump in his throat, forcing his eyes to tear away from the object that held promises, vows, and everlasting love.

'God', He thought to himself. 'Anything but this. ANYTHING!'