It was yet another snowy Sunday night in South Park, and Stan Marsh had just finished packing away all his things into cardboard boxes.

The small house was silent except for the noise of scratching markers on cardboard and the occasional shifting of boxes. Stan sat down on his bare mattress, having packed all his blankets and sheets away for the big move the next day. The house was lonely, but that had nothing to do with the lack of furniture.

After resting for a few minutes, Stan stood up and proceeded to the bathroom to wash his hands clean of the dust his empty old house had accumulated. The black-haired young man stood silently for a moment, having thought he'd heard a sound. He shook it off and washed his hands.

He dried his fingers roughly on the towel he'd left out of any box for the very last night he'd be spending in Colorado. He stopped short, sure that he'd heard something once more. He jumped, hearing the noise again.

He forcefully pulled up the blinds to the bathroom window. He wore a look of sheer bewilderment as a good-sized snowball made contact with the window. Stan frowned and lifted the pane.

"Who's there?" he called into his backyard. Silence. Stan strained his eyes, trying desperately to see through the dark blanket of night to find the perpetrator, but, alas, it was of no use. Just as Stan was about to close the window, another snowball came rocketing up at him with great speed. Stan had no time to react, and thus, the snowball his him square in the face.

"Hey!" Stan called as he brushed the stinging snow out of his face, drying up the remains with his bathroom towel. He scowled when he heard a distinct snicker from below. "That's it..." he muttered.

Quickly closing the window, Stan bolted down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and twisted and turned through the house to get to the back door.

Upon shoving open said door, Stan poked his head out into the cold. Having neglected to put on socks, a coat, or even his favourite red-and-blue hat, Stan hoped he wouldn't have to step outside. Stan cringed as he heard the packing of snow from out in the yard, and Stan carefully tiptoed outside, snow burning his feet.

"Hello?" Stan said, shivering.

Another snowball came speeding towards him, but Stan was ready this time, and swiftly dodged the snow. He quietly approached the source of the projectiles, crossing his arms in a futile attempt to get warm.

After a few more steps, Stan could barely make out a figure in the dark. It was short and small, as far as Stan could discern. "I can see you! Give it up, I've got you cornered!"

The yard went silent. Stan jumped when a loud, familiar voice shouted, "Never!" and began promptly pelting packed packages of snow in Stan's general direction. Stan groaned, covering his face with his now-frozen hands as a number of snowballs ambushed him.

When the attack had seemingly subsided, Stan lowered his hands and continued to approach his assailant. He only wished he'd thought to bring a flashlight! Suddenly Stan remembered his cell phone. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone, sliding it open and shining the overly-bright display screen in the petty criminal's face.

"I-Ike?"

Stan had been expecting some little kid or even Kenny or Cartman, but not Kyle's younger brother. Though he was probably sixteen or seventeen, Ike hadn't grown much since he'd seen him last. Ike groaned, dropping the snowballs that were currently in his hands. Stan closed his phone and directed the young Canadian and himself back into his house.

Once the two were inside, Stan began his bombardment of questions. "Ike, what are you doing, throwing snowballs at people this late at night?" he demanded in irritation. Ike blushed, and brushed a chunk of snow out of his messy black hair.

"I can't tell," the teenager stated simply. Stan glared at the boy. "I can't, sorry," Ike said again.

Stan rolled his eyes. "Did Kyle put you up to this?" Stan asked bluntly. Ike paused, before nodding slowly. Stan raised his eyebrows. "Is...is Kyle in town?" Ike nodded again. Stan used to hate Kyle's brother's snitching quality when he and Kyle were younger, and trying to keep their relationship on the DL, but now, Stan actually found it quite helpful.

"What's he doing here in South Park?" Stan asked hurriedly. "Where's he staying? Did he say anything about me?"

Ike motioned for the older male to slow down. "I don't know why, but Kyle's at our place. He said he missed us and wanted to come for the weekend, but I know he's lying, because he doesn't miss me at all," Ike said with a hint of childish jealousy and scorn. Stan mulled this over. If Kyle was only staying the weekend... then Stan would have to move quickly if he was going to see his former friend before the both of them would have to depart in the morning.

Stan looked back down at Ike. He bit his lip and glanced at his watch. It was nearly eleven at night, but Stan didn't care. He bent down quickly to kiss the top of Ike's head, and ignored the teen's protests as he dashed up the stairs and into his bedroom.

The young man hurriedly shoved his feet into some socks, threw on his coat and hat and ran back out into the hallway and down the stairs. Ike stood by the front door, looking positively bewildered. Stan threw his shoes on and threw the door open, sprinting down the ice-covered street towards Kyle's house.

Stan didn't stop when his lungs started to burn. He didn't stop when his knees started to wobble. He didn't stop until he'd reached the sidewalk outside of the Broflovski residence. He proceeded up the path to Kyle's door without even a thought as to what he would say should Kyle's begrudged parents answer the door. Luckily, neither of said people did once Stanley had rung the doorbell.

It took a great deal of self-restraint upon making eye-contact with Kyle for the first time in almost a year to not jump the poor man's bones. They simply stood there for a moment in perfect silence. Only when Kyle's mother yelled down the stairs for Kyle to shut the door, did Kyle let Stan in, where they proceeded to stare at one another for another few moments. Finally, the redhead snapped out of it, and smiled.

That smile. God, how Stan had missed it. Kyle's bright orange waves of hair and glistening green eyes, pale skin and pale pink smile. He'd missed him so much.

Stan didn't even get a chance to say a word before Kyle embraced Stan. Stan felt terrible when a tiny drop of warm moisture his the back of his coat, a tiny tear. Stan buried his face in the crook of Kyle's neck and breathed slowly. God, he smelled so good. Just like he'd remembered. It was a sweet mixture of shampoo and chocolate, despite the redhead's inability to eat chocolate due to his diabetes. Stan had always wondered about that smell. Stan leaned up and whispered into Kyle's ear. "Sorry."

"Love you," Kyle whispered back.

Stan shook his head. "Why?"

"'Cause you finally got it. You're not selfish anymore."

Stan said nothing, simply pulling away to kiss the Jew. He held Kyle's head through his hair, and forced them as close as humanly possible. Kyle draped his slender arms over Stan's shoulders. The black-haired male pulled back slowly, their lips almost touching, but not quite.

Stan bit his own lip and avoided Kyle's eyes.

"I... can't," he said finally, backing away from his friend. "I hurt you too much, Kyle," Stan murmured.

Kyle shook his head and tried to get Stan to kiss him again, but he backed away. "Stan, just forget about it, okay? I'm not mad anymore."

Stan said, "Yeah, but you should be."

Kyle forcefully grabbed Stan's chin and forced him to look into his eyes. "Stan, we're gonna go upstairs now, and we're going to have sex. And tomorrow, I'm going to miss my bus to Denver, and you're going to miss your flight to Manhattan. And then, we're gonna get married, and have an amazing life." It wasn't a question, simply a statement.

"But my house - "

Kyle interrupted him. "Doesn't matter."

"And my flight - "

"Stan."

Kyle gave his friend a look. Stan sighed and kissed the Jew softly.

The two proceeded upstairs, where they followed Kyle's plan to the letter. They had sex. They missed their transportation out of South Park. They were legally married one month later. They lived extraordinary lives together with each others' complete and total trust and love. They were the happiest men in the world as far as they were concerned, until the day they died. Even then, their souls continued their incredible legacies in ways much too beautiful to describe in words. The only way one could truly understand the story of the strongest love in the world, would be to experience it for themselves.

FIN


DERP. Sorrrrrrry!! Long update!! Crappy update!!! BAD ENDING! Apologies!

Man, I spent FOREVER writing this chapter, honestly. I have like twenty files of FINISHED epilogues that I wrote for this story and I just couldn't get it right. Especially the ending. Which I failed at.

But review, please! Constructive criticism, flames, praise, ect.

As a last thinker, how did I do? How would you have finished the story? Just outta curiosity.

Loads of love for those that endured my failing all along :) Stay tuned for my next chaptered story, starting mid March!!