NOTE:NOTE 2: Most of this story is actually true. It is about my love trials with another boy that I considered my best friend. And yes, I am ALSO a boy. And yes, boy + boy GAY. The most of this chapter is true. A LOT of this chapter is very true. Chapter 2 will not be. None of it.It goes needless to say that "Being Alive" is not a song that I own. It is from the musical "Company" and is composed and written by the one and only Stephen Sondheim.
NOTE 3: You might probably WANT to read the paragraphs. I know there are people who enjoy to skip the words and get to the dialog and, if they're alone, act out the voices. I do it too (guilty as charged lol). You must read the words. It gives you a better image and possibly a more romantic view at the two boys. Neither I, or the boy I liked, looked like Stan OR Kyle, and we probably never will, just pretend that we did.
By Kyle Pitre
I, Kyle Broflovski, now age 14, found myself taking a familiar road I knew all too well. On my way to the Marsh family residence, there in that house lived a boy named Stan. I knew him for such a long time, that I almost had forgotten how fast the years went by and how many were behind us. Ever since I was 8, I had always had strong feelings for Stan. Sometimes, I thought, these strong feeling stretched far beyond the boundaries of friendship and into something deeper, more sophisticated, more intimate. I was unsure all that time, but for the past few years, I was certain.
When I turned 9, I confessed to Stan that I was a homosexual and admitted that it was he who had changed my opinions towards love. The way Stan looked. His body. The way it was so skinny, but no too skinny to look gross. He was perfect. The way his medium length midnight-black hair curtained his sapphire eyes. In the sunset, when there was a light wind and a strong burning sun with ruby skies, I would see Stan's eyes captured in the sun light making them look the colour of a deep, soft velvet purple. My knees practically went to mush whenever I saw this phenomenon. Now, I never needed a sun set or a light wind to capture Stan's utter beauty. His perfectly sculpted face and his elegant neck.
Stan had stopped wearing his hat, even though it was his trademark, and let his silk shadowy tendrils loose on his ears and on the right side of his face. I thought I should compete with this. I started to change my appearance as well as puberty took a strong hold. I began to wear a white, long-sleeved button-up with a green sweater over top with the white shirts wrists folded over along with the collar. This, in fact, made me look far more intelligent along with my stylish, studious glasses resting on my nose. Along with puberty came far sightedness. I also straightened my hair. No matter how long I straightened it for, it still came out wavy, but I liked it. With age, my auburn hair became slighty darker and more red, almost the colour of blood, but without the tint of hair dye, but with the shine of satin.
Still, no matter how long I thought about life and how much our roads have made detours and twisted and turned but always became a one-way at the end, it still didn't stop my legs from moving. The chillyness of the wind made me wanna turn back, but the heat of the fall's sun made me venture on. I had no idea what I was going to say, but I knew it had to come out. Sure, it was hard enough to tell Stan I was gay, it made me cry, Godammit, but it's even harder to tell a boy that you like him. I mean, that you really like him.
I used to date girls back in grade school. I used to like this girl named Rebbecca, but she got into making out and became a little whore. Then there was Bebe Stevens, but I ran away after I kissed her. That was probably one of the clues that made he figure out I was 'fay.' I had feelings for some of these girls, I thought, and I used to think that that was what love or like was. Then I began to have strong feelings for Stan. He went to Italy, for a month, and I couldn't stop thinking about him. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat (I still don't eat. I wanna maintain my thin body so that I don't look so fat next to him. He's already thin as it is). Whenever I thought about him, my heart would beat like crazy, I would sweat, and my mind would run rabid! Only images of holding his hand, or sitting with him and kissing him and undressing him only made me realize that this is what 'like' was. Not like what ever it was I felt with girls. Then he came back. And I told him I was coming over.
And there it was. Stan's door. I looked up to see if he was in his window. He wasn't. Maybe I could have told him from the window and then jet down the sidewalk like a mad man. Then maybe he would run after me, grab my shoulders, twist me around and kiss me as passionately as he possibly could. I wanted him to come after me. That's usually what I want with someone I feel for, but I never had, not as much as I liked Stan. Kenny supported me all the way, but he didn't think I should tell him just yet. But what does HE know?! Kenny, in a matter of speaking, is a dirty slut. He doesn't 'put out', so to speak, he simply looks for this perfectly sexual fantasy with another chick. Despite how dirty Kenny was, even though his sky-blue eyes and his shaggy dirty-blonde hair was kind of cute to some degree along with a crooked smile, he would think that every 'would you go out with me' or 'I like you' would turn out just as he planned. But when it came to others' relationship problems, he became somewhat realistic... Somewhat...
But Kenny wasn't here to say 'No', it was just me. Me and this God damned door that I couldn't manage to knock if my life depended on it. But there was a knock on the door. After opening my tightly closed eyes, I could see my clenched fist recoiling after knocking. I suppose that was my heart speaking. I waited anxiously, almost hoping not to hear thumping feet on the stairs, but at the same time wanting that golden knob to turn so I can get this over with. And there they were. The stomping feet coming down from the stairs. He was expecting me so they were extra fast. I didn't know what to do. I ditched! I leaped into the nearest hedge and shut my mouth for my life! Stan's amazingly sexy hair popped from the open door. He looked straight ahead, not looking in any other direction and closed the door after 4 seconds. I stood up in offense! He didn't even look my way. He could have noticed my bits of hair hanging out of the hedge, but he gave up just like that. This pissed me the hell off! Everyone knows that when someone knocks on your door, your supposed to at least look for, what, 30 seconds at the least?
I hopped out of the hedge and knocked on the door more fiercely. The door was opened almost immediately. Stan opened it again, a bit confused. "Hello?"
"You can't just give up that easily!" I shouted, laughing a bit so it didn't seem like I was too angry.
"I'm sorry, but there was no one there," he replied.
"Ya, but still!" I looked to the ground. "Soo..."
Stan moved out of the way and I walked in, still looking at the floor.
"So, you had something to say?" Stan asked.
"Yeah," I answered. "Can we go somewhere else? Like, in your room, or something?"
Stan walked upstairs and I quickly followed him. God, what a sweet ass! After we reached the second floor we made a couple turns and went into his room. I loved the smell of his room. It smelt of him. Stan had the best smell in the world. I've had a few opportunities to catch his sweet scent. Sure it smelt like guy, but with a mix of stale candy. It wasn't AMAZING, but it was the best smell for any teenager to have aside from dick, or cigarette smoke. He plopped is butt on his soft bed. It was small, but it was big enough to fit two skinny bodies. I wonder if he laid down near the wall I could sneak in a cuddle... STOP!
"So, what's up?" Stan asked.
I began to pace. I don't know if Stan liked it or not. I assume he didn't because it gave him a feeling that I was troubled. Normally, he would be confused, but this time it was getting annoyingly typical. The entire week he's been back, I was always so awkward around him, that it became a habit. But once I got this over with, I'm sure it wouldn't happen any time soon. Or at least, I hope not.
"How long have we been friends?" I finally asked.
"Since we were 4," he answered comfortably.
"And... uhh..." I didn't know how to put it. I became red in the face. I began to look at something else, I can't remember what it was, but my eyes quickly shifted to his Game Sphere, I think, or was it his computer? I can't remember. But I found myself laughing. Laughing at absolutely nothing. It wasn't a hardy laugh, but it was almost an awkward, nervous laugh. Kind of like the laugh you make when the Joker in Dark Knight makes a joke, or does something grotesque, kind of like that, only I couldn't stop. And Stan couldn't stop staring.
"Is something wrong?" he asked.
"Yeah!" I answered seriously, but that fucking smile couldn't escape my face. "Yeah, Stan, something iswrong. Something's very wrong!"
"Dude, if it's about Hairspray 2, I already know," he replied. "Or is it about the Rocky Horror Picture Show remake with Marilyn Manson?"
"No, dude!" I shouted. I didn't mean to shout. I know now that I was being a major dick, but in my mind then, Stan was being a complete dip shit. "I'm sorry... It's not your fault. I've just been under a lot of stress lately. And... God... This thing has just been on my mind the whole time."
"Then tell me!" Stan said. "You've told Kenny, I know, and freaking Butters, but you can't tell me? I've been feeling left out, lately, and I don't like it."
Now I realized why he wanted to know so badly. It wasn't because the thought of it all was driving me crazy, and he doesn't want me to be stressed, but he's just feeling left out. I've been feeling left out too, way more than he fucking knows! I'm just the person in the back waiting for a moment to cut in while Stan and Wendy talk each others' ears off. I thought Stan was being selfish then... I'm pretty sure I still do think so.
"It sucks, I know," I said.
I couldn't tell if the expression on Stan's face meant 'Wait, you've been feeling left out? I'm sorry, I didn't know' or if it meant 'What the hell are you talking about? Are you looking for pity?'.
"Well," he said getting up. "I gotta check my e-mail." He clicked on the monitor and pushed the power button with his big toe. And what a glorious toe it was. Perfectly groomed, no dirt, no cracks, recently cut, no callouses... STOP! STOP IT!!
He didn't even ask if it was alright if he would go on the Internet and still talk to me. I needed his undivided attention. But I suppose he could care less. I needed to make him care. I couldn't let him off that easy without giving him a jump in his seat or give me a "WTF' look of shock and surprise. This couldn't be taken lightly and it wasn't about to.
Stan's msn screen automatically glided in front of his face. He typed in his password... I wish his password was 'Kyle.' Maybe then it would show if he still cares for me, if he ever did, for that matter. Maybe the password was 'ILuvKyle.' But for all I know, and for what a jerk Stan was being to me, it's probably 'FuckMeWendy' or 'IHateFags.'
Stan had been gone for a week, so all of his online friends wanted to see how Italy was. I sat on the bed ready to throw my shoe at Stan's head, but I slowly opened my eyes in a nervous sweat and opened my mouth.
"I like you..."
Stan turned around and looked at me. "What was that?" he asked. "I couldn't hear you with the msn sounds and everything."
"UUUGGGGHH!!" I collapsed onto Stan's bed in an exhausted anger. I took me this long to actually say it, and he was too fucking arrogant to even give a flying FUCK! I remained face down on the bed. He was still looking at me.
"What?" he asked.
"I just told you," I answered still muffled from his pillow.
"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, just say it again..."
I jolted up onto my feet. "I LIKE YOU!"
Stan stared at me with open eyes. Despite how angry I was with the little fuck, and no matter how surprised he was, it was a golden moment for me, in a way. Not with my emotions, but I got to see Stan's gorgeous eyes like I've never seen them before and that almost made me cry. The moment had nothing to do with it, but it was help.
"Oh..." he said. He looked at the carpet with those words still in his head.
'Oh?' I thought. Is that all he had to say?! 'OH?!' I fucking like the guy! Not even an 'Oh my God' or even a 'Wow,' but... 'Oh?'... I made it seem like none of those thoughts flooded my mind. My face remained passionate and truthful.
"I didn't see that coming," he said. And then he turned around on his chair and continued to type.
And there it was. Just like that. Everything I had worked for resulted in an 'Oh' and then a turn-away, like it never happened. As much as Stan probably cared about what I said, he didn't let it seem like it did. And, DAMMIT, he did a good job.
"Kyle," he began, still typing. "I... I... Honestly, I don't know what to say."
"Anything!" I immediately said. I couldn't let him slip away. Not this easily. "Please, just... Just say whatever's on your mind."
Stan, still typing, might I add, the asshole, began to speak. He would open his mouth, breath in, emit some sound, then give up with an exhale. He did this only a few times, but it was clear he didn't know what to say. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But he never looked at me. I was getting a feel that when ever he spoke, and then gave up like that, it meant that he didn't know how to say something that would make me go away.
"Well..." he began. "I... I don't know, I... umm..."
"Come on, Stan!" I shouted. "It's been bugging the fuck out of me to tell you what I've told you just now! I know this probably has ruined our friendship, but either way, I would have looked at you differently. I've been with a couple other girls, and I thought I knew what 'like' was, but ever since I started to like you, I've been feeling so... Amazing! I've never felt this way about anyone in my entire fucking life! And I'm talking to you now, and I at least thought you would say something... And now you're not... You make me feel so great, Stan. Whenever I imagine us walking, or holding hands, or kissing, even, get these awesome pulses through my body that make me feel like a new person. A new Kyle."
And there it was. I said what I needed to say. All except for 'Will you have me?' and 'Can I kiss you?'. Stan finally turned around. He looked scared... Really scared. Well, no, he didn't. He looked like nothing had happened. But I knew he was scared. I knew this had a big impact on him, he just didn't want to show it. He didn't want to feel. He didn't want me to feel, jerk! He simply stood up and walked out of the room. And that was it.
Then I stood up, and walked after him...