Disclaimer: South Park is not mine.

Author's Note: Dedicated for Brat Child2 just for being… her awesome self and a huge support! I love you, girl ;-;

Sorry for spelling or grammar, English is not my native language.

And, due to a certain reviewer's misunderstanding, I would like to note that they are in high school in this story.

Hidden in the Closet

The closet is a place for clothes, a place for secrets. "Don't snoop around my closet!" you say, afraid that they may find out something that is only for you to know. When on the top shelf or in the lowest drawer they find your underwear you shift uncomfortably. They aren't supposed to know what you wear under your clothes.

They aren't supposed to know what is hidden under the mask you're wearing whenever you go to face them. They aren't supposed to find out the secrets that are hidden in your closet.

He is a fool, a total, fucking fool. How could he have not notice that? It was right in front of his eyes, screaming at him to understand and do something, but he was too naïve to see it as what it was. And he claimed to truly love him…

He could remember the day as if it were yesterday, the day when it all begun. It was raining hard and snow fell occasionally from the dark clouds above, but didn't pile on the ground below. He had a bad feeling down at the pit of his stomach the entire day, he knew that something was about to go very wrong.

School had been as shitty as ever, with boring classes and annoying people, but nothing out of the ordinary happened. He and Kyle decided to go to the movies and watch an action film Stan had been keen on seeing. Kyle told him that he'll have something big to tell him then, the cutest smile spreading on his lips and his features reflecting happiness.

Stan got to the theater ten minutes late and searched for him, trying to look for the right excuse in his mind for his tardiness. Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

Kyle was never late, and that made him wonder what could be the cause for his tardiness and thank the Lord for not having to search for lame excuses in his mind anymore. It was too early to worry, so he decided to wait for him under the roof next to the entrance.

The minutes passed and he was getting cold. No one was out to get tickets anymore; the movie started long ago. His breathing became slow as his eyes checked the street for any sign of him, worry beginning to show its ugly face. Eventually, he left the safe spot under the roof and went to look for him, ignoring the needle-like rain on his face as he ran around and wondered if he got the place wrong.

He was getting very cold and there was no sign for Kyle no matter how hard he looked. Calling his house proved to be futile, for when he asked Kyle's mother for his whereabouts she simply hung up on him. When he called again no one picked the phone up. Could something have happened to his one and only?

He was thinking of giving up when he finally found him, hidden in a dark corner where no one would notice him, away from the parking lot and the entrance to the theater. He was soaking wet and clutching a small brown bag as if his life depended on it. His head was bowed and he was leaning on the wall with his shoulder. "Kyle!" Stan yelled and ran over, enveloping his love in a hug. He stayed like that for a few moments, allowing his worry and fear to slowly fade away. "What are you doing here?" he asked quietly, as if afraid to scare Kyle, who looked like a lost puppy, away.

"We… we said we were going… to watch a movie," Kyle replied, his teeth chattering as he spoke quietly. The sound of rain falling on cement and iron almost prevented Stan from hearing what he was saying.

"Why did you wait here then?" Stan asked, seizing Kyle's shoulders as if afraid to lose him again. Tears of relief choked him, clawing at his throat as they tried to make their way up.

Kyle didn't answer. Instead, a tiny smile was formed by his lips, sad and lifeless. His eyes were hidden under the red curls of his hair, which was dripping wet. Stan bit his lip. "Come on, let's go to my house," he said. Kyle followed him without objection. If it wouldn't have been raining, Stan would have been able to notice that not only the water from the sky wet the Jewish boy's face.

As soon as they got to his house, Stan pushed Kyle into the shower, ordering him to take a hot bath and get himself warm. He brought him a change of clothes, and was surprised to see him dressed in his own clothes when he got out half an hour later. "You have your own clothes here?" Stan asked, receiving a nod from Kyle. "Why?" To that, Kyle did not answer. His head was still bowed.

"Can I stay here tonight?" Kyle asked in a whisper.

"What?" Stan asked and moved his head closer so he could hear Kyle better.

"C-can I stay here tonight?" He asked again, louder, sounding almost afraid.

"Sure," Stan said, blinking in confusion and making room for him on the bed. "Come on, sit with me. I'll help you warm up."

"I'm warm enough, thanks," Kyle said and chose to sit on Stan's chair next to his desk.

Stan frowned. "Is something wrong, dude?"


"Then why won't you sit with me?"


Stan sighed heavily and got up, walking towards Kyle and wrapping him in a loving hug. "You know you can tell me everything. We're best friends, we're a couple! We should share no secrets!"

"Nothing's wrong," Kyle said, holding Stan's arms and trying to push him away. When Stan kissed him, Kyle pushed him and got up, his fists clenched. "Wrong…" he whispered. "It's… wrong…."

But Stan didn't hear it. "Kyle?" Stan asked timidly. "Are you sure everything's fine?"

"I'm fine, dude, don't worry. I'm just… really tired." He answered.

"Oh, wait here. I'll get a bed ready for you," he said and left his room, going to look for a sheet, blanket, and a pillow.

"Stanley, dear," his mother said as she noticed him pulling a white sheet out of the closet in her room. "Is Kyle alright?"

"I think so, mom," he replied, throwing the sheet on her bed and grabbing a pillow. "Why?"

"Well, he looked very down, don't you think?"

"I don't know… he acts a bit strange, but he says it's because he's tired." Stan said as he lifted the sheet, blanket, and pillow from his parents' bed.

"Oh, I hope so. He's such a cheerful guy, it's too bad to see him down."

"I think so, too, mom," he said and left.

When he entered his room again he was surprised to find Kyle lying on his bed, his back turned to him. His breathing was slow and even, indicating that he fell into a deep sleep. Stan scratched his head, lost. He wasn't keen on sleeping on the mattress, but he also didn't want to wake Kyle up. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sighing, he laid down the mattress and made himself a bed, falling asleep promptly.

He woke up just before noon, a usual time to wake up over the weekend. Kyle wasn't in his bed anymore nor in his room. Stan yawned loudly and stretched, suddenly receiving an urge to hug Kyle tight and just feel him against his body. Some urges are meant to be fulfilled, and so, he got up quickly, his face twitching at a sudden pain in his back, and left his room.

His mom was in the kitchen, reading a book with a cup of tea in her hand, and his dad was in the living room, watching a baseball game on rerun. Shelly was at her current boyfriend's, much to his relief. Kyle wasn't there. "Mom, dad, have you seen Kyle?" he asked, standing between the living room and the kitchen.

"He left early in the morning, dear," his mother replied, not averting her gaze from the printed words in her book.

"And he didn't say goodbye?" He asked quietly, slightly dazed.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" His mother asked, her gaze still fixed on the same page in her book.

"Nothing," he mumbled and went upstairs.

How could he have not suspected anything then? He was positive that Kyle was angry with him, surely there cannot be any reason other than that. But no matter how hard he tried to remember, he could not figure out what had he done wrong. He figured he'd just have to wait and talk to him when he'll see him again, or maybe he should try and go to his house. He'll make his final decision after lunch.

No one opened the door at Kyle's house. It relieved him, somewhat. Kyle probably had to leave early because his family went to visit other family members in another town and he went along, but he didn't want to wake Stan up so he left without a word. That was probably it. He nodded to himself and turned around, going back to his own house.

Kyle probably left for the entire weekend. That was Stan's conclusion when no one answered the phone in his house when he called there on Sunday evening. On Monday, Kyle appeared in school. Stan saw him only once, on fifth period. They had History together. His hands were laid on the table and his head was buried between them. "He's been like this the entire day," Wendy told him. She shared more classes with Kyle than he did, and on the particular day she had the first six periods with him. "I think that something's seriously wrong with him."

They all noticed it. Everyone noticed it.

"Kyle?" He asked and sat in front of him, holding his shoulder gently. "Is something wrong, dude?"

"I'm tired," Kyle replied quickly, and shifted in his place. Stan left his shoulder. "I don't sleep too well on a bad that's not mine."

Stan would never doubt his boyfriend. "Where were you over the weekend?" he asked, feeling relieved that Wendy was probably just imagining things.

"I was… at my cousin's." he replied, and the teacher yelling for quiet prevented Stan from questioning the Jewish boy further.

He sat next to him at lunch, as usual. Kyle piled on his plate more food than he usually did, and Stan could almost swear that he didn't see him chew it. It was like he swallowed the food as soon as it entered his mouth.

"I think you hung around Cartman too much," Kenny said, chuckling.

"Ey! Shut up, Kenny!" Cartman replied, eating slower. "No Jew will act like me!"

"Are you gonna eat that?" Kyle asked after the last drop of his juice was gone, eyeing Stan's spaghetti.

"Uh… no?"

"Good," Kyle said and took the plate away from his tray, putting it on his own.

Even Cartman was looking at him oddly. "Are you okay, Jew? You're eating a lot, did the sex-filled night you had with Stan tire you?"

"Shut up, fatass!" Stan yelled and slammed his fist on the table. Kyle was too busy eating to notice.

"What are you guys planning for winter break?" Kenny asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence which spread over their table like a disease

"I'm going with my mom on vacation," Cartman said, smiling.

"Jesus, you're such a mommy's boy, Cartman!" Stan said, receiving a chuckle from Kenny.

"Shut the fuck up! At least I'm not a stupid fag!"

"Who said I am one?"

"No one! I can notice fags from hundreds of miles away!"

The sound of something hitting the table cut their fight short, and the three turned their heads to look at Kyle, whose fist was clenched on the wooden surface of the table after he hit it, his head bowed. He rose from his sit slowly. "Don't talk about fags," he said before turning around and leaving.

"Kyle!" Stan called after him, also standing up. "Wait up!" the doors to the cafeteria swung close as Kyle left, and Stan chased after him. He ran after him down the hall, eventually catching up with him next to the exit. "What's wrong?" He asked, panting slightly.

Kyle looked away. "I don't want to hear fatass's opinions about gays."

"But you're used to it!" Stan said, sounding desperate. "Dude, you're acting very strange. What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Kyle yelled at the top of his lungs and ran outside. Stan didn't see him in school since then.

Even then he didn't think it could get that bad. He was sure that Kyle was upset about a fight with his parents, or that he suddenly begun to doubt his and Stan's relationship with each other. He never thought that it could get so bad…

Stan went to Kyle's house every day, but no one ever answered, and Kyle was nowhere to be seen.

"The Broflovskis moved," his dad told him when he noticed his son's distress. "Didn't you know?"

"What?" Stan asked, shocked. "When?"

"A few days ago, if I'm not mistaken," he said before leaving and closing the door to Stan's room after him. Stan stared into nothing, dazed and confused. Why didn't Kyle say something? Why did he hide that fact from him? Was that the reason he became so distant the past week?

He kicked the wall in frustration. Why did Kyle keep silent! Why hadn't he said a word! He could have at least told him goodbye. All that Stan could do now was wait for a letter or a call from Kyle, which will pinpoint his current whereabouts.

How could he know that Kyle never left to begin with?

It was two months later that he saw him again. His mother sent him to buy a few things for her in the market. He walked around the stands, looking for what she asked for, when he heard a yell. "Stop! Thief!" he whipped his head around to see a grown up man chasing a young man around, who clutched something to his chest. That young man was Kyle. Stan dropped the bag he carried and hurried over, colliding with Kyle and causing him to fall on his behind. The grown man caught him.

"Please, sir!" Stan said and tried to pry his arms away. "Forgive him, his mind isn't right!"

"Forgive him?" The man yelled, his face red as the apple Kyle was clutching so tight to his chest. "That's the third time this week! The little bastard always gets away with it, but I'm not letting him off this time!"

This caught Stan off-guard. Kyle was always the one with the most morals, and now he caught him stealing, when he was supposed to be in another town! "Please, sir!" Stan begged after he regained his composure. "It's not his fault, he doesn't understand that he steals things!" The man frowned. "Here," Stan said and took the apple away from Kyle, who wasn't so keen on letting it go. "Take the apple back, I'll make sure my friend won't repeat this act." Then he helped Kyle up.

"You better," the man said as he walked away. "He's going into jail if I catch him again!"

Kyle kept silent the entire way to Stan's home, limping slightly and keeping his head down. No matter what Stan asked or how gently he kissed or how quietly he coaxed, Kyle didn't say a word. Stan couldn't help but notice that Kyle got very thin since the last time he saw him, and that his face was as pale as a ghost's. He didn't ask for the reason, though. He knew that he would receive no answer.

Only when Stan was about to open the door to his house did Kyle speak. "They disowned me," he said, sniffling.

"What?" Stan asked, confused at the sudden confession.

"My parents. They disowned me." His hand moved up to wipe his tears.

Stan forgot about the door and simply stared, shocked. "They did what?" He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Let's… let's talk about it in my room."

"Stanley!" His mother called from the kitchen. "Did you get what I asked?"

"Eh… no, mom! There was a mess there. I don't know what happened, but I couldn't get through! Something about a theft…"

"Odd…" came his mother's reply as he ran up the stairs, dragging a tired Kyle after him.

"So," he said after closing the door, pointing towards the bed and signaling for Kyle to sit there. "What do you mean 'they disowned you'?"

He could see Kyle gulping. "Remember the day when… a couple of months ago… that I told you I'll have something important to tell you?" Stan nodded. "I told my parents about… us that day. They… they got mad. Mom hollered and dad was just… angry. Sh-she said that I'm not her son anymore. She doesn't have a problem with people changing their sex, because then they're not really gay, as she sees it. But when her son tells her tat he is, she wouldn't allow it. They moved away so Ike wouldn't…" Then he threw his hands to his face and wept loudly.

Stan gulped. "Jesus Christ…" he said, moving slowly to hug him. "What did you do?"

"I went to live on the street, I had nowhere else to go. I went to Kenny once, but… most of the time I stayed on the street."

"You should have come here!"

"I didn't want to be a burden…" he said and sniffled.

"Idiot!" Stan yelled. "I would have… you should have… oh, Kyle," he buried his head in the redhead's shoulder and allowed his own tears to fall. "I'm so sorry… you… you can stay here with my family. We'll take good care of you and you can stay in my room!"

Kyle shook his head. "I can't…"

"Why not? I won't allow you to sleep on the street!" Stan said, shaking Kyle by the shoulders and trying to knock some sense into him.

"Because then your parents will know! And they'll disown you, too. I don't want that to happen, not to you, Stan!"

"Oh, God, Kyle…" Stan said quietly, trying without much success to erase the smile off of his face and wiping Kyle's tears away as he kissed him on his forehead. "They already know…"


Author's Note: I'm not too pleased with how it came out, I think…

If it were longer it would suck. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!.