A fanfic from the slightly disturbed mind of the Californian who hates California.
Author's Note: Very heavily inspired by the song Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down) by Nancy Sinatra... uh, best known as the opening theme for Kill Bill Vol. 1, lol. Anyways, I love the song and this fanfic is divided by its verses. Each verse of the song is like a stage of life if you haven't heard it. And yeah, I know I should be writing FTSoF, but I had this song stuck in my head along with the idea for this, so I did it! Right... this is in Stan's POV.
Kyle and I had always been the best of friends. Both my parents worked, so I stayed with the Broflovskis a lot when I was younger and unable to look after myself. His mother was a kind babysitter, although strict at times. But in the eyes of a small five-year-old, she didn't seem all that evil.
I remember when it was summer and Kyle's dad bought the two of us these water gun super soakers-- the battery powered ones, that didn't require all that stupid pumping. The two of us would have all sorts of fun in his backyard playing "Cowboys." His mom even made us little western outfits. His was black and mine was white. Dressed up in those costumes, we felt like real tough cowboys.
"Alright," Kyle would always say when our games began, "This," he said touching a large tree in his backyard, "is safe."
"Ah, come on, Kyle, no safes this time." Kyle tended to abuse "the safe" not to mention change it every five minutes.
"No, no, this is safe," he said tapping on the trunk again, "You can't shoot someone if they're touching the safe."
"Alright, fine. Let's play now!"
The two of us ran to the middle of his backyard, and stood with our backs against one another's. "Ready?" I asked.
"Ready," he answered.
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleventy, twelve..." the two of us counted in unison as we took step after step away from one another. "Twenty!" we shouted and whipped around to face each other. "Bang bang!"
We charged one another, spraying each other with water and laughing. Kyle got me in the face and I started to dart for the safe. I touched the tree, still receiving an endless stream of water in the ear, "Safe! Safe!" I shouted holding a hand up, to block away the water.
"That's not the safe any more!" he shouted, still squirting me, "The fence is the safe now!"
"That's not fair!" I yelled, running for the fence, shooting blindly in the direction of Kyle's laughter. I had my eyes closed because of all the water. I tripped over something and fell to the ground hard. I got the wind knocked out of me; it was enough to make any five-year-old cry.
I stayed laid on my stomach for a long time, my face in the mud, crying. Kyle had finally stopped and rushed over to me, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he pulled for me to sit up, "Stan, please stop! I'm sorry, Stan! I'm sorry!"
I finally sat up and sniffed loudly, as I rubbed my sore stomach.
"Stop crying, please, Stan..." he said wiping the mud off from my face with his sleeve.
"I'm not crying!" I shouted pushing his arm away.
Kyle frowned at me and didn't say anything. I stood up quickly and tried to wipe the mud from my white cowboy outfit. Kyle sat staring up at me for a while. He then stood, picked up my white cowboy hat that had fallen off, and handed it to me, "Do you still want to play?"
"No," I answered stubbornly placing the hat back on my head.
"Oh..." he said glumly. It made me feel bad.
"Okay, fine... But no cheating!" I ran to the middle of the backyard.
"I didn't cheat!" the little red-head insisted as he chased after me.
Just as we had our backs against each other's again, we heard Kyle's mom call out, "Kyle! Stan! Come here for a minute!" Kyle and I exchanged glances and then obediently went inside.
"Stanley! What happened to your clothes?" she exclaimed spotting my muddy uniform.
Mrs. Broflovski frowned at me for a while and then sighed, "Oh well, never mind that. Kyle, we have new neighbors! There's a little girl both yours and Stan's age! Why don't you go say 'hi'?"
"Aw, Ma! We were playing!"
"Just go and say 'hi,'" his mother repeated.
Kyle and I walked to the front yard with Kyle's mom and saw a large moving truck parked next door. There was a little girl, with long black hair playing with a doll on the front lawn. She saw us and immediately ran towards us.
"Do you live here?" she asked me eagerly, slightly out of breath.
"No," I answered.
"I do," Kyle said. Kyle received a small push from his mother behind him, "Uh, my name's Kyle. What's yours?"
"Wendy," the little girl smiled. She looked at me, "What's your name?"
"...Stan," I answered shyly.
"What happened to your clothes?" she asked, tilting her head to one side.
"We were playing 'Cowboys' and I fell."
"Owie... did it hurt?"
"Owie... did you cry?"
"No," I answered quickly.
"Can I play too?" she asked looking from me to Kyle.
"No," Kyle answered. Another shove from his mom, "Alright, fine."
The three of us went into Kyle's backyard. We only had two guns, so we decided to change the game a little. Wendy was captured by Kyle and I had to rescue her. I never did get to rescue her though, because her parents called her back home before I got the chance.
"Why were you acting so weird in front of that girl?" Kyle asked as the two of us sat in the tub, taking our routine afternoon bath.
"I wasn't acting weird," I said.
"Yes, you were," he splashed me a little. He paused for a while, "Do you want to marry her?"
"No," I said right away.
"I think you do."
"No, I don't!"
He was quiet.
"I don't want to marry her," I repeated angrily, although blushing at the same time.
Kyle blinked at me for a while with his big, emerald eyes, "If I were a girl, would you marry me?"
I stared at him for a while, considering the possibility, "I guess so..."
"But I'm not a girl..." he said, pouring a pale full of water over his head.
"I cleaned out my room the other day," Kyle said as the two of us sat down to eat lunch in the school cafeteria. "Guess what I found stuffed away in my closet?" the now seventeen-year-old popped a french fry in his mouth.
"What?" I asked.
"My old cowboy outfit."
I laughed at the memory of the two of us playing "Cowboys."
Kyle laughed too, "Remember when we used to play? Bang bang!" he smiled forming a gun with his fingers and pointing it towards me, "Bang bang!"
I grinned at him. The two of us were the best of friends when we grew up. In middle school, we sort of drifted away from each other for a while, but when we entered the foreign territory of high school, we found ourselves side by side once again. By our sophomore year, we were more than just friends. We had slight differences though, and were regularly on the verge of break up. I wondered constantly if I was just with him because I was afraid to be alone. Why did I stay? Did I love him? I honestly wasn't sure.
"Do you still have yours?" Kyle asked.
I shrugged, "I'd have to look for it... It's probably stained with mud..."
He laughed again, "I used to shoot you down, huh?" he smirked.
"You used to cheat, that's what you used to do."
I just smiled at him.
But Kyle didn't smile. He frowned and stared down at his chocolate milk, twirling the straw round and round, "You're one to talk about cheating..." he muttered.
"What?" I then shook my head, realizing what he was talking about, "Kyle, you broke up with me. We were a part for a week--"
"Yeah, a week. It just took you a couple of days for you to hook up with that Wendy again."
"We were broken up--"
"You can't ever be single, can you?"
I just stared at him, not truly knowing the answer myself.
He sighed, "Do you know how many times you've said 'I love you'?"
"You keep track?"
"Four isn't that hard of a number to remember," he looked me in the eyes, staring unblinkingly for several moments, "If we broke up again, would you miss me?"
"Would you miss me... or just the company?"
I thought about it for some time, but my reflection lasted too long for Kyle's liking.
He nodded and slowly stood up, "Right. I'll see you later, Stan," he picked up his lunch tray and left me.
I paced back and forth in the church. I was extremely nervous and anxious. Who wouldn't be on their wedding day? The choir started singing and I heard the organ began to play. I was getting married to the only girl I was ever with, Wendy. Everyone was happy for the two of us. My parents especially relieved that I was marrying a girl. It didn't really matter who it was, so as long as it was a girl. Of course they wanted me to be happy, but they didn't exactly embrace the idea of me being gay either.
And I was happy... I think. Wendy and I had been together off and on all our lives, but together for a full five years starting during our senior year in high school. We were together. We were happy. Everyone was happy.
I peeked through the doors and glanced at the guests that sat in the church pews. I didn't know why exactly, but I expected one person to be there and he wasn't. Why I thought Kyle would be there was anyone's guess. We hadn't spoken to each other for years, since our last and final break up. I saw him occasionally. It wasn't hard to run into someone in such a small town. But I never talked to him. I just sort of... watched him. But I thought that he would come... I don't know why. I just expected it. But he wasn't there.
Wendy and I got married. We moved into a small apartment and were a happy couple... for a while. After being married for about five or six months, she sat me down one day for a "serious talk."
"Are you happy, Stan?"
"Of course I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be?"
"I'm not happy, Stan."
She sighed, "You're just so... distant. I thought that once we were married, you would change. You would open up to me, but... you haven't."
"What're you saying? You... You don't want a divorce, do you?"
She just frowned at me.
"Wendy... I... I love you..."
She shook her head, "I don't think you do, Stan..."
"Of course I do! I married you, didn't I, dammit?"
But she left me. I was alone.
I went after Kyle. I thought for sure, he still loved me. I thought about him all the time. Was I in love with him? I had to be. Why else would I think of him so much? I found out that he still lived with his parents and went to go see him one day.
I rang the door bell for several minutes, before opening the door and inviting myself inside. "Kyle?" I called out. There was no answer. I walked up the stairs to Kyle's old bedroom. "Kyle?" I gently pushed the door open.
Kyle stood, looking out his window with his back towards me. He held a gun to his head.
I screamed and darted for him. He landed in my arms. I shook him violently, "Kyle! Kyle! Oh God, no! Kyle!"
He was dead.
I cradled him in my arms, crying uncontrollably, "Kyle, why? Kyle, don't leave me! Kyle! Why, Kyle? Why?"
Why did he leave me? Without saying anything. No goodbye. No explanation. He left me. I was all alone. He left me. Why did he leave me?
I stared at the gun still clasped in his right hand. Without any hesitation, I took the gun from his cold grasp.