Rated for language, drugs and sexual references.

*-*-*February 26th, 2007 9:12pm*-*-*

I giggled girlishly as my boyfriend carefully pressed the eyeliner to my eyelid and dragged it along the sensitive skin, tickling my nerves. He repeated this a few more times before blending it slowly, and then again on the opposite eyelid.

"I'm gonna have to keep an eye on you," Stan told me. I rolled my made-up eyes. "'Cause you are so fine that every human in the room is gonna be after you."

As I blushed, I laughed softly. "You sure can hyperbolize," I provided. Stan smiled and gave me a peck on the cheek. He checked his watch and bit his lip.

"Cartman's gonna be here in fifteen. Don't talk back to him, Ky, he's our DD and he's sure as hell not happy about it."

I sighed. "I know, I know." I shook my head as Stan began to go through the rest of my makeup, which mostly just consisted of green eyeliner, with a few things of shadow. "He does this at every party and won't shut up about it, how he's being so high and mighty, not drinking for our safety... what a prick."

Stan just nodded. I knew he wasn't listening, but I didn't mind. I turned to my bathroom mirror, pushing stray curls out of my face and examining, then approving of, Stan's eyeliner job. Stan closed my makeup case and put it back in my drawer.

"Should I put on that other shirt I got last week? The yellow-and-green one?" I asked Stan, meeting his gorgeous blue eyes through the mirror and smiling. Instead of responding, however, Stan simply came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my abdomen lovingly. I closed my eyes and put my hand over his arm. "Whatdya think?" I murmured.

"I think," Stan began, turning towards the door and directing me through the doorframe, "That you are absolutely perfect just the way you are."

*-*-*February 26th, 2007, 11:53pm*-*-*

It's was a couple hours later, I couldn't remember how many.

The only things my wasted mind could process were that I was at the party, I was obnoxiously drunk and stoned, my eyeliner was all over my fingers and was probably ruined, and that I really liked the song that was playing at the moment. I laughed inwardly that, despite everything, I cared about the quality of the music.

But fuck, I was having fun. I was too drunk to process what I was doing, but I knew Stan was there somewhere, and that he would make sure everything was okay.

I ran my green-stained fingers carelessly through my hair and laid down, not even realizing I'd been sitting up, or where I was sitting. I was fairly certain I was in Craig's basement.

My mind started going out, until I heard Kenny's happy laugh, when I snapped out of it slightly. He said something about me, but I was passed out before I could hear the rest.

*-*-*March 1st, 2007, 12:43pm*-*-*

I groaned, staring at the yellow walls around me. The porcelain beneath my butt was cold, even through my jeans. My senses were on hypersensitivity mode ever since that party. Ever since people started talking about me everywhere I went.

Someone entered the school bathroom and I snapped my head up from my hands upon hearing my name to the sound of Clyde's voice. "...with Kyle. What a whore."

Another voice agreed with the degree of my whore-ness and they left a few moments later. I tried to resume crying my eyes out in Stan's name, but it wasn't the same. I washed my face and left, starting back to the cafeteria, knowing that every face would be on mine.

I was right. I tried desperately to ignore them all as I took my usual seat at our lunch table beside Stan. Kenny and Cartman stared at me from across the table; glanced from me, to Stan, to one another; stood up silently and left.

The ebony-haired Christian beside me shifted, facing me, also ignoring the faces in the crowd, watching closely. "Kyle, I can explain - "

I frowned, not wanting to hear his bullshit. "Stan, I don't want to hear it." I looked around subtly. "Especially not now."

Stan sighed, grabbed my by the skinny wrist and hauled me into the empty hallway. "Kyle, we were drunk, it was hazy in there from the pot, I didn't mean for it to go down like that, man," he insisted. He leaned in closer to me, and I backed away stubbornly. "Nothing happened, Kyle, I swear it."

I scowled at him. "You lying bastard! It's one thing to take advantage of your drunk boyfriend, but certainly another to deny it afterward!"

Stan shook his head and pleaded his case, but I had already blocked him out. After everything I'd been through since that damn party, he was going to repel everything?

"Then how come Jimmy, Bebe, Wendy, Powder, Red, and Token all said they saw it? Why is everyone I pass in the hallway calling us whores, sluts and faggots?" I demanded angrily. I lowered my voice. "You fucking knew I wasn't ready for that, Stan." He sighed.

He looked away from me. "I know it looks bad, but nothing happened in that bedroom. I swear my life on it, Ky, you know I'd never lie to you!"

I look at him, almost believing his crap for a moment, before I turn on my heel and storm down the hallway. The bell rang, and I turned around to face Stan, not caring if anyone would hear me or not. "In case it's not obvious," I shout down the hall. "We're fucking over, Stan. Everything!"

*-*-*May 13th, 2013, 1:04am*-*-*

"I guess... truth."

Cartman smirked knowingly. I already regretted my decision, knowing he'd simply bring up that tenth grade party again. The brunette simply never let some things go.

"Is it true that you and Stan screwed at that party in tenth grade?" I knew it.

I rolled my eyes. "You know I don't know the answer to that, Cartman," I said as maturely as possible. "I'll probably never really know."

He sighed. "So I guess I'll never know, then, too," he stated. I rolled my eyes. "What about you, Ken? Got any idea if it really happened?"

The blonde on the couch beside me shrugged and took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke out slowly. "Dunno." I gave Kenny a look. The subject had always been unusual with him. Usually he cared very deeply about other people's business, but he tended to steer clear from this particular item of interest.

"Well it doesn't matter now," I muttered. I turned back to Kenny. "Truth or dare?" I asked blandly, knowing in advance the option the boy always chooses.


Right again.

I pondered this for a moment before, "I dare you to prank call your math professor," I said casually. Kenny's eyes widened significantly.

"Fuck you, no way."

I narrowed my eyes. "You have to, Ken, c'mon," I encourage him. I wondered when the fun-loving, pussy-chasing Kenny I knew from tenth grade morphed into the responsible, no-nonsense third-year college Kenny. "It's the rules."

Kenny simply shook his head again and outright refused.

After a moment of awkward silence, Kenny turned to me. "I dare you to call Stan, Kyle."

I can't even process his words they're so foreign. I almost laughed at the prospect of calling up my ex-boyfriend and former best friend at one in the morning on a weeknight just to chat, after not speaking for three full years. Then I almost cried at the prospect of having to face him metaphorically.

"I didn't even pick truth or dare. So not fair," I announced. Kenny sighed, shaking his head.

"Stan didn't take advantage of you that night. You didn't fuck. I'm positive."

*-*-*November 11th, 2017, 5:32pm*-*-*

"You wanted proof, Kyle? Here it is. Here's your proof. After you watch this damn thing, I hope you call Stan and forgive him. It's been too long, Kyle. He loved you. I'm sorry I didn't show you this earlier, but I just didn't want to get involved. But now, I figure there's nothing to lose. Taken from my cell phone the night of that party. ~ Kenny."

I sighed, sliding the DVD from a decade ago into my computer, trying to believe that somehow this would change things. Inside, though, I was convinced Kenny's 'proof' couldn't change anything. Maybe I secretly hoped it wouldn't - then, everything would be my fault for not believing him.

The video started and I smiled immediately as the image of Craig's party appeared on my computer screen. Kenny pointed his camera phone over at Cartman, who immediately started bitching about it. I laughed.

Cartman put his hand over the phone and left rudely. Kenny, Stan and I made our way into the kitchen, talked to a couple people and then retired to Craig's basement. I vaguely remembered getting wasted down there, and Stan talking about something as I passed out. There were only a few people downstairs - us, Red and Token playing pool and Craig and Tweek were making out in the corner, to whom Kenny kept turning the camera on and making crude comments. I was practically tearing up laughing, remembering how Kenny had used to be so much fun, with such a good sense of humor. He'd changed a lot since then.

Stan and I were on the floor, my head passed out in his lap. Cartman was nowhere in sight.

The camera shuffled and created static, as Kenny passed Stan a joint. "Get a room!" he said obnoxiously, shooting the camera back over to Tweek and Craig. Stan snorted on the screen.

"Why are you filming this whole damn party?" He asked, slightly hazy.

"Dunno. Didn't get to tape the last one," Kenny said. "Wanna be able to remember this one, since I'm too drunk to remember it on my own."

Stan chuckled and nodded, playing with my hair in his lap. He passed Kenny the joint back after taking a hit. My eyes fluttered open and I smiled, sitting up a bit. I rubbed my eyes, smearing my makeup and getting it all over my fingers.

I laughed to myself watching this, realizing how much of a fag I'd been to wear makeup to a party. Tenth-grade me ran my hands through my hair and laid back down into my boyfriend's lap, closing my eyes again. Stan looked down at me and smiled.

Kenny started laughing. "Goddamn. If you don't tap that shit soon, I'm gonna have to," he said. Stan scowled.

"Shut up, Kenny. Kyle says he's not ready, and I respect that!" Stan said firmly. Twenty-five year old me bit my lip.

Kenny sighed. "Damn you and your chivalry." Stan chuckled.

After a few more minutes and one last shot of Craig and Tweek practically fucking, Stan, Kenny and I went back upstairs. Kenny handed Stan his camera phone and told him to keep filming, and went to get more alcohol from wherever.

Stan sighed, but agreed. After a few minutes, I muttered something about not feeling good.

"Christ, I drank too much, Stan..."

Stan looked alarmed, but just nodded. He still held the phone, but took my hand and led me upstairs. Stan opened a few doors, looking frantically for the bathroom. The bathroom door was locked, so Stan directed the camera phone and me into an empty bedroom. As he turned around to close the door, a bunch of people from school started whistling and joking about us being together in a bedroom. Stan groaned and turned the lights on.

"Are you okay?" he asked me worriedly. I shook my head 'no'.

I started to puke violently all over Craig's bedroom floor. After a minute, I got mad. "Don't fucking film this, Stan!" A few people outside must've heard the comment and started laughing. Stan sighed, setting the camera down.

I fast-forwarded through ten minutes of film of the ceiling and the sounds of me being sick and pressed 'play' again when Stan picked up the phone and led me back downstairs, ignoring the students' questions and assumptions, and outside towards Cartman's car.

The video stopped, and I was silent for a moment. Then, I burst into tears.

*-*-*November 23rd, 2017, 7:29pm*-*-*

I breathed in deeply, and knocked on the door. It swung open forcefully only a few seconds later. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of the man I hadn't seen in six years.

He looked at me for a moment, trying to figure out who I was. Upon realization, he opened his mouth, letting no words out.

"Um, hello, Stan," I said uncomfortably. "I...I'm sorry."

The black-haired man laughed. Of all things, he laughed. "Kyle, what are you doing here?" he finally asked when he finished having a good chuckle over my presence.

I was put off. "I'm - I-I'm apologizing,"

Stan shook his head and laughed again. "Kyle, that apology is nine years overdue," he informed me. Like I didn't already know. I stared at him.

"There was no way I could've known, Stan - "

He shook his head again. "You could've believed me. Your best friend since birth. You could've chosen not to ruin everything because of a misunderstanding, Kyle." He paused. "And now, it's too late."

I watched in horror as he slammed the door in my face. I paid money I didn't have and took time off of work I didn't have to get on a plane and fly up to Boston because I thought he would forgive me. I turned around, learning a lesson about friendship along the way.

*-*-*December 31, 2033, 11:43pm*-*-*

"This'll be what, almost forty years we'll have known each other? Man, I can't believe we're that old," Kenny informed me. I laughed, nodding.

Kenny swerved around an obnoxiously large van in front of us and resumed driving in our own lane. I frowned, but knew that, of all things, Kenny hated being criticized on his driving. "You better hurry, dude," I told him, glancing at my watch. "Seventeen minutes 'till midnight." Kenny nodded, speeding up a bit. "Wonder who'll show up," I commented.

"Probably lots of people. After all, how many times to you get to go to your twenty-year class reunion?" I nodded. Kenny glanced over at me. "You think Stan will be there?" he asked tactlessly.

I shrugged, pretending not to care. "Dunno, Don't care. Haven't talked to him in fifteen years, and when I did, he slammed the door in my face. Why would I care?" I knew Kenny can see through my argument, but he said nothing.

We pulled into the school's parking lot and got out of the car. Kenny took my hand and we started into the building, him calm, and me anxious.

"Hey Kyle, Kenny!" Wendy ran over to us as we entered the gym. She hugged us both. "I haven't seen you guys since college!"

I smiled and said hello, returning her hug. As Wendy chatted idly to Kenny and I, I scanned the growing crowd for Stan. My heart sank when I saw his shiny, unmistakable black hair. He almost caught my eye, but I looked away promptly enough to avoid it.

After engaging in boring conversation about people we once knew's lives and their kids and their wives and husbands for a few minutes, the crowd suddenly started counting, and I realized that it was almost midnight. Unfortunately, the people of South Park are rather unintelligent in the big picture, and had started at one, counting up to twenty.

Kenny turned to me and pointed this out, laughing along with me. When everyone shouted 'twenty', Kenny gave me a short kiss and joined in with the rest of the group's cheering. I joined in too, clapping and yelling until my hands were raw and my throat was sore.

After about an hour more of talking to people about the 'good old days' back in high school and college and whatnot and wishing them a 'happy 2034', Kenny asked me if I'd talked to Stan yet, as though it was a chore. I simply shook my head.

"You should, Kyle," he told me. "You can still be friendly even if you're not exactly friends." I sighed, knowing he was right.

I looked for him, found him, and regretfully approached him. He stared at me for a moment before I said a meek 'hello'.

"Hi," I muttered. Stan swallowed.


I cleared my throat. "What's... what's up?"

Stan gave me a look, but went along with it. I was just glad he was mature enough to act civilized about it. "Not much, I guess. Still single, still looking," he joked. I chuckled. "Still working at the same damn office, make damn near minimum wage..." he added with a sigh. " You?"

I showed him my hand with the shiny golden band on the ring finger. "Got hitched with Kenny, just last year," I paused, realizing that it was a new year. "Well, two years a go I guess. In March, 2022." I could tell he was trying very hard not to let his shock show on his face. He simply smiled fakely. "Got a nine-to-five office job, too. Same with Kenny. Saving for a house, actually," I said. I don't know why I was bothering to tell him, as I knew he probably didn't care.

Stan let his face fall flat. "Oh," he murmured. "That's great, Kyle. I'm...I'm happy for you."

I immediately felt like a shit bag.

I bit my lip. "Stan, I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - "

"No, really," he said, his voice cracking. "It's fine. Just 'cause nothing's going right in my hell of a life doesn't mean it should be the same for you guys, right?" I sighed.

"Stan," I began, trying desperately to avoid making this worse. "I tried to fix it. I was wrong, and I apologized. I wanted us to be friends again. I still want us to be friends."

Stan nodded. "I-I know, Kyle."

I caught a glimpse of my watch and groaned. It was already one-thirty, and I had overtime the next morning. "I've got to go," I said. Stan nodded. I looked at him a little while longer. "It didn't work out then," I added. "But maybe it's not too late?" I scribbled down my cell phone number for him and held it out.

The black-haired man smiled a bit. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll give you a call, Kyle." He took the piece of paper and smiled again, bigger than before. "Thanks."

I gave him an impromptu hug, one that lasted what seemed like forever.

*-*-*April 30th, 2043, 2:50pm*-*-*

"Happy 50th, Kyle!"

I blew out the candles on the cake in front of me and sighed. "Dammit, fifty years already?" I joked. "Seems like this morning I was fifteen."

Stan and Kenny laughed and sat down beside me.

"Fifty's not too bad," Stan said. Kenny nodded, cutting the cake and handing each of us a piece. "Too old for sex, but too young to start digging your grave, at least..."

I scoffed. "Too old for sex, my ass..." Kenny chuckled and Stan shook his head with a laugh. "Besides. Easy for you to say. Each of you still have three or four months left of forty-nine."

"Don't remind me," Kenny said.

"I never realized 'till today how much I liked that number..." I continued, taking a big bite of cake. "Fifty already sucks." Stan just rolled his eyes and poured each of us a glass of wine. At my glass, he paused and gave both Kenny and I a mock-serious look.

He said, "Hmm... I don't know, Kyle, I think you might be getting too old for alcohol..."

I snorted. "As long as I'm young enough to smoke, I'm young enough for alcohol, goddammit." Stan and Kenny laughed even harder and Stan continued pouring the drinks.

After a few more moments of joking around, eating cake and drinking (and then spitting out in disgust) the too-old-to-taste-good wine, the phone rang. Kenny went to answer it, leaving Stan and I alone.

Stan stood up, and looked me in the eye, smiling. "Happy birthday," he said softly, leaning down to kiss me innocently on the lips. I say innocent because I know Kenny wouldn't mind. He left the room and left me to try and count the years it's been since eighth grade.

In other words, the amount of years since I'd been kissed like that.

Just a little drabble I got in my head to take a hiatus from my hiatus... if that makes sense. Basically, I'm still taking a break from writing, but I had to get this story out of my head.

Reviews feed my self-esteem, and thus, the more I get, the faster I'll be off hiatus. So review.