"Fuck you Stan!" Kyle growled, his arms crossed over his chest defiantly. "I refuse to fall into your little game."

"Kyle." Stan said softly, resting a hand on Kyle's knee. "I'm being serious."

Kyle glared. "Oh sure, like I can believe a hippy liberal like yourself is ganna go to fucking war." He leaned back. "Uh huh, sure. Next you'll say I'm Catholic."

Stan smiled slightly. "Good luck with the religion change while I'm gone."

Groaning, Kyle turned away. "Shut the fuck up, you're not leaving and I'm fucking a Jew."

Stan made a face. "Ike? Jeez, I thought you had more taste than that." Catching the small smile that briefly crossed Kyle's lips, he reached out and wrapped him arms around his shoulders. "Still, I don't want to fight. Please, it's my last night here," Stan whispered against Kyle's neck. "I want us to be okay when I leave."

Kyle frowned, hunching in on himself. "Go find someone else to believe your lie and fuck them." He huffed indignantly. "Cause I sure as hell won't tonight."

Sighing sadly, Stan nuzzled Kyle's neck. "Okay. I'll go home. You know where I'll be." He picked himself up and glanced at Kyle. "I love you Kyle. . . Don't forget that." Then he left.

Staring angrily at the floor, Kyle sniffed and shifted slightly, listening to the murmurs for their parents downstairs and the sound of the front door closing. He waited a moment before sliding out of his room, listening to the conversation.

"- sorry Sharon. It must be hard to watch as your buhbala goes off to war." Shelia consoled. "But he'll be back soon. When Hilary takes office-"

Kyle ran down the stairs and out the door, not bothering to hear the rest. He knew that Stan wasn't lying.

He caught the teen and hit him from behind, knocking them both to the ground. "Don't go. You'll die. I'll die if you die." Hugging Stan desperately, he spoke to his back. "Oh God don't leave me."

Stan sat up and pulled Kyle around into his lap, rocking him back and forth soothingly. "I have to Kyle. I just have to." He rubbed circles onto his back. "It's my duty as an American. Plus," Forcing Kyle to look at him, he smiled and said. "I'll be back and I can always write you."

Kyle hiccupped and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Let's- let's just go to your house." He drew a shuddering breath. "I won't let you sleep alone tonight." He looked up and let Stan kiss him.


"Close your eyes and I'll kiss you," Stan sang softly, his lips pressed against Kyle's ear. "Tomorrow I'll miss you."

"Shut up Stan." Kyle whispered, clutching Stan's shirt, not willing to let go.

"Remember I'll always be true." Swaying their bodies back and forth, Stan smiled and leaned away to look at Kyle. "And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my lovin' to you."

Kyle sniffed, looking down. "You fucking better." He pressed his forhead into Stan's shoulder and held back a sob.

"Everyone on board please!" A man yelled from the bus. "We're on a very tight schedule!"

Stan sighed and tipped Kyle's head up. "Bye Kyle." He smiled again and kissed him, hugging Kyle to his body tightly. "I love you so much."

Tears slid down Kyle's cheeks as he looked up at Stan. "Dammit," He growled, rubbing his face. "You'd better come fucking home douche."

Brushing his lips once more against Kyle's he started toward the bus, picking up the song once again. "I'll pretend that I'm kissing the lips I am missing and hope that my dreams will come true."

Kyle crossed his arms and glared as Stan got on the bus and took a seat. "I hate you!" He called at the brunet. "So God damned much for putting me through this!"

Stan pulled himself up to the window, still smiling fondly. "And then while I'm away, I'll write home every day, and I'll send all my lovin' to you." He hung his arm out the window as the bus started and the doors closed. "Love you buddy. I'll write soon okay?"

Kyle broke down, and half-ran to the side of the bus, clutching Stan's hand. "God Stan, I love you, I love you. Don't go. Please don't go. Don't leave me." The bus pulled away, dragging Stan's hand from him. "Damn you Stan!" Kyle yelled, not caring his voice cracked. "God damn you!"


'Dear Kyle,

Things are fine, even if boot camp is killer, I really think theyr trying to kill me here. I mean, fuck, how is doing push-ups going to help me shoot a gun and run away? Hah, I don't know. Nor do I think I'll figuer it out either. . . Shit I'm sure your yelling at me telephathically for misspelling words huh? In any case at least your thinking about me. It's so boring here, nobody to talk to, nobody to screw around with, hell, nobody to screw period. Just kidding. I am missing you though. The nights get awful lonely and I don't think my hand has gotten this much action, with someone other then you, in a long time. Ah, they're calling for the mail for the day. Better stop writing now. . . But it's kinda fun to watch them glare. Oh shit- theyr leaving. Love you Kyle.

Love Stan'

Kyle gripped the letter, eyes staring at it blankly. Finally, he set it to the side, curled up, and slept.


"'Mr. Ass Hat' huh?" Kyle mussed, looking at the letter waiting for him in the mailbox. He took his time tearing it open and reading the contents.

'Dear Mr. I'm-too-good-to-write-my-boyfriend,


Love Mr. Too-chilverous-for-words-to-proclaim.'

Kyle chuckled and folded the letter back up, trudging up to his house, deciding he would write.


It was a while before the next letter came and Kyle could not stop himself from worrying. So, when he found a letter for him a flood of relief washed over him.

'Dear You,

Thanks for writing and, hey, sorry this took so long to get to you, we suddenly got transfered over-seas. Looks like I won't be coming home. Fuck, I didn't even get to finish camp, but I havn't done much that would suggest that it matters. Someone we knew is at my new station though. Remember Clyde Donovan? Slow kid that was Craig's friend? Well he's here. He's a main strategist. Turns out he's a lot smarter then he. . . What the hell is that noise? Holy shit--

Fucking hell, I've just spent the last two hours croutching under a desk. I didn't realize how incredibly loud bombs are when they go off. Never knew they made a whistling noise as they cut through the air either. Good thing Clyde had sense enough to yell 'Duck and Cover.' Actually, it's a better thing that it didn't hit us.

It's lights-out time now. Got to be up and ready by o-5 hundred in the morning so I need all the sleep I can get.

Love you man, sorry to hear your moms still being a bitch.

Love Me.'

Kyle sat stiffly at the kitchen table. Taking in every tear and dirt smudge on the paper he was holding. He re-read part of the letter numbly. 'I didn't realize how incredibly loud bombs are when they go off. . . . Actually, it's a better thing that it didn't hit us.'

Gritting his teeth, Kyle pushed back his bad feeling about the situation and picked up a pencil, ready to write a letter once again.


Letters came sporadically, sometimes within a week sometimes after two months, more then once Kyle received multiple letters at once. With each one, he wrote back, wanting Stan to know he was still here and hoping for his return. Slowly, the letters got shorter and shorter only giving brief descriptions of his day, things he had though about, things he missed. Then finally, Kyle received his last letter in the mail.

'i miss you so much kyle'

Seeing the scrawled handwriting forced Kyle to realize that this was the end. There would be no more letters. There would be no more pointless phone calls where all they did was listen to the other breathe. There would be no more Stan.

But, despite it all, Kyle tried to ignore his instinct and tried to pretend it would be all okay.


Kyle was walking into town the day he saw the Hummer parked outside the Marsh's home and the three men walking to the door.

He stopped and watched as Mrs. Marsh answered the door, looking bewildered. It was a matter of seconds before she sunk against the doorframe. The men looked sorry as they turned and walked away.

Kyle could not move as they passed by him, only stare at the women breaking down on her porch. She caught his eyes and started to sob louder, turning away.

He darted to her, holding her to him. Trying to soothe her as much as he was trying to soothe himself.

"Oh Kyle, Kyle, he's gone. My baby boy is gone."


Standing by the grave, watching as they buried an empty casket, Kyle mussed on the point of burying anything when they could not find a body. It's hard to be torn up that much by a machine gun, something had to of been left to send back.


They presented the flag to Mrs. Marsh, letting her take it and pull it to her chest.

Kyle watched this all, his fist closed around the dog tags Mrs. Marsh let him have. That's all that was left. All they could find. And Kyle was permitted to have them. Everyone knew of he and Stan's relationship, and it seemed that Stan's mom thought it appropriate that her son's fuck-buddy have something too.

He laughed bitterly, eyes following the dirt being thrown into the grave.

What a fucking laugh.

"Damn you Stan. God damn you."

'Seemed to stop my breath
My head on your chest
Waiting to cave in
From the bottom of my...
Hear your voice again
Could we dim the sun
And wonder where we've been
Maybe you and me
So kiss me like you did
My heart stopped beating
Such a softer sin'

- The Used 'I Caught Fire (In Your Eyes)'