The Truth About Love (Stan x Kyle)

Backstory

Before Stan, I'd only ever met two young people my age. The only person I'd frequently seen was one Princess Kenny, basically my only friend. She often talks with me for the sake of diplomacy and we discuss an assortment of things. Our two countries being one of them. The other was Cartman.

I've had the displeasure of meeting him ever since I was young, and I will do anything to get out of the meetings. The last time I saw him was only a couple weeks before he murdered his Dad. Although hed been a dick I hadn't realised he was that evil. I shudder remembering the meeting. I'd tried so hard to be nice to him as well.

"My Dad was very good friends with your Dad. One Randy Marsh." My face lit up.

"Oh I remember him! Hes awesome, if a little strange and gullible." I said grinning, memories of Randy chatting to me when he was waiting to talk to my Dad flooded into my mind. I'd loved those conversations. Stan gave me a small, sad smile.

"He was." Stan said gravely. "One typical Sunday evening the four of us: me, my Mom, my big sister Shelly and my Dad were sitting round the table eating dinner. It was meant to be a good day, the best day," he said his eyes tearing up again, "Mom had cooked my favourite meal because I'd won the local sword fighting contest for kids. With the money I'd won I bought the family dessert; something we hadn't had in a long time because we rarely had the money. But we never got to eat it at all." I stared at Stan in horror. I could already guess the ending. "There was a knock at the door," he paused composing himself, "a couple soldiers entered our house. We didn't think anything of it. We'd done nothing wrong, why would we?" he said helplessly, a couple stray tears streaming down his cheeks. "They asked my Dad, 'are you Randy Marsh?' My dad answered 'yes,' sounding a little confused. 'The man who trades goods with the elves?' 'yes,' he answered again, firmly. Emotionlessly they sprang. Within seconds one had killed Shelly, the other had killed my Mom. I was frozen for a second before I burst into rage. I leapt at one of the men, stabbed him hard in the leg and knocked him out quickly with as much force as I could muster." He didnt kill the guy? My respect for Stan sky rocketed. "I dashed over to my dad, but I was too late. My Dad had managed to kill the second soldier, but he had inflicted a deep stab to my Dads chest. I knew he wasnt going to make it. 'S-Stan' he stuttered out, losing blood fast. 'Dad!' I screamed, holding him in my arms. 'Go to the Drow Elves, m-mention my name, G-Gerald will look after you.' Then he went slack. Covered in my Fathers blood, barely able to focus, I walked around the house in a trance. Collecting only want I needed and headed here. You're parents welcomed me in before I even mentioned my fathers name. They cleaned me up and then brought me to you. It only hit me when I was here in this strange room, so far away from home, exactly what had happened." Stan burst into tears again. I was too shocked to talk. He started speaking again, sobbing as he spoke. "H-However, when I was walking here, filled with rage, I realised exactly what I could do. I thought, I'll serve the elves in whatever way possible as a warrior. I'll help then fight against Cartman, and bring him down if it kills me! That thought kept me going. It meant I didn't break down. I turned into some kind of emotionless robot, ready to serve. But you, Kyle, you showed me a constant stream of kindness today. It slowly broke down the shell I'd built around myself. Thanks man, I-I feel a bit more like myself now." He said sniffing, stray tears rolling down his cheeks slowly. My brain had decided to short circuit. I couldn't really fully process anything hed said. Then he grabbed me in a tight hug. Instinctively, I shoved him off. Shit, thats not what you do to a crying person! I quickly grabbed him in a hug of my own. He looked at me with confused, teary eyes.

"S-Sorry, Ive just never been hugged before." I said awkwardly. "I'm not good with physical contact. I don't like it, and I'm not used to it. No elf is. We don't touch each other, and we don't cry. Or at least, were not meant to."

"You've never been hugged? Even by your parents?" Stan sounded aghast.

"Elves dont do physical contact." I replied flatly.

"Do you want me to get off?" He asked.

"N-No, it's quite nice actually." He hugged me tighter.

"Good, because I wasn't going to. He started crying again and I stroked his hair, holding his head to my chest and letting him cry quietly into it." That bastard Cartman. If I hadn't been furious before I sure as hell was now. Then a thought hit me.

"I'm so sorry Stan." I said, realising that if Stan's Dad hadn't been trading with us in the first place non of this would have happened.

"Why? You've done nothing wrong." He said muffled into my shirt.

"If you're Dad hadn't been trading with our kingdom, your family would still be alive. It was a really brave thing to do in the first place. The South has always hated elves."

"Don't think like that, that's how Cartman wants you to think. It's not your fault he's a racist piece of shit. If my Dad tried to teach me anything it was acceptance, that's the belief he died for and it's the belief I will uphold." I hugged him tighter. Then a couple minutes later he pulled away. Hugging the pink jumper tightly again.

"Did those things belong to your family?" I asked hesitantly, not sure if I was crossing some line.

"Yeah." Stan replied. "The jumper was my Mom's; she didn't really have any brightly coloured clothing so my Dad saved up and this is what he bought her. She wore it practically every day since. She loved it." He turned his attention to the scarf. He took a deep breath, then continued. "I gave Shelly this scarf for her birthday, about a year ago, as I'd won the swords fighting competition back then too. I kind of thought she hated me, she was always beating me up. But she wore that scarf with pride every day since I gave it to her. She was wearing it when she died." Tears started streaming down his face and I could tell he was starting to get frustrated with himself. He started wiping his eyes again fiercely until I pushed down his hands again. "M-My Dad carved me the dog last year for my birthday. I always wanted a dog, but we couldn't afford one and we didnt have the money to feed it either. So my Dad carved me this and I love it so, so much." We sat in silence for a couple minutes. Eventually, Stan spoke again, "Thanks man, I think Im ready to sleep now." 

"Alright, goodnight." I said walking to the door.

"Night Kyle." He said quietly as I closed it.

Xxx

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