The Husk Of a Sinner. (Style) [Stan MarshxKyle Broflovski​] {South Park}

Chapter 1-Kyle's POV

"Did you get it?" I ask anxiously.

"Yeah dude. It's right here." He hands me a cheeky smile and bends over to get it from under his gaming system. Probably so the demon his parents call 'their daughter' couldn't get her hands on it.

"Awesome." I breathe out.

If people didn't use the word 'awesome' so much it would have been a good vocab word. Anything with 'awe' in it deserves respect from my view.

This is when I look down.

God damn, Stan. You have one fine ass.

My face flushes.

Oh god.

I've had unholy thoughts about boys before, and I always assumed it was hormones.

I didn't know my sexuality, and I don't like jumping to conclusions.

But Stan?

I can't do that to him.

We are super best friends, and I would never try to ruin that.

Even if I did like him, he's completely straight, and is still drooling over Wendy. She's really nice, but I fucking hate her. I never liked her, I guess. It made me feel bad and ignore Stan for awhile when they got together.

And in a different dimension, where he was gay, or maybe bisexual, I'd be sitting there thinking: damn, he doesn't like me. even if there was an alternate universe where he did like me, we'd either date for a few days and break up, then never speak again, or I wouldn't like him there. I DON'T EVEN LIKE HIM! WHY AM I-

DAY DREAMING ABOUT HIM?!?!?! IT WAS ONE GAY THOUGHT, YOU SEX DESPERATE COCK-EATING ASSWAD!

I freeze.

Who the hell did I feel like yelling at?

I have a few trust issues, so when I get angry, it takes me a long time to forgive. but I usually know who I'm upset with.

It wasn't Stan, he didn't really do anything.

I saw Kenny at school, and he never does anything wrong, except he has a few... problems. He runs off, and gets really pissed off when he says he died, and we don't 'remember'.

That was quite annoying... but it's not his fault, I guess.

Well, when he leaves, there's an ongoing joke.

Oh my god, they killed Kenny!

I giggle. "You... bastards."

Ironically, today, he didn't run off. So we missed our daily joke.

And Cartman, aside from his normal crap, did act a little different today. I'm not sure if Stan noticed, but Cartman wasn't dropping any gay jokes. Which, besides the Jewish jokes, were the worst. I guess they are the worst because that's how I criticize myself. Not being Jewish. That one hurts because me, and my damn family are Jewish. It's also all I know. But, my conscious tells me thinking like that is wrong. I guess that's because god forbid it. Right? That's all religious people go on about. How being gay is a sin to god.

Back to the Cartman thing. He's always an asshole, but he was better than usual today, so I didn't have a fetish to scream at him as bad.

Besides, everyone knows he can't change. he may change a little, but he has so much to change he'll never get there. He has wayyyyyyy to many body cells to change, and not enough brain cells to even get started.

Stan finally stands and I look away.

I mean, how do you look at the one you are thinking wrongly about?

I fully support gay rights, but how do gay people deal with this kind of pressure? Poor sweet loving gay people.

My heart drops to my stomach as I realized how gay I just sounded.

He looks at me with a proud smile, and I feel so guilty when it disappears.

"Kyle, are you okay? You're pale."

"I know... I'm sorry Stan, but I'm not feeling to good. I'm gonna go home."

"Aww..." He whines.

"Sorry dude." I manage to smile without choking on the pure self-loathing, and utter disgust in myself.

He goes to out the game back.

Ugh. Not again.

O-oh-oooh but yes! In a few months that will be the thing that gets you up in the morning, Kyle.

"Stop!" I almost scream at him.

I hear a distant "Get you turd friend to shut up, tuuurd!"

Stan moves back upward and looks at me.

"What?"

"I...uh...didn't get my goodbye hug."

Great job on not acting gay, you dumb fuck.

"Oh." He looks so suprised I felt really guilty about what was going on out of his perspective.

Hopefully, he doesn't notice anything.

But, honestly, when does anyone notice when I'm so upset if I was reckless, I could be dead. And that's half of what upsets me! If I blew my fucking head off, everyone would say: 'I don't know why he would do this! Kyle... He was such a good boy. He had no problems!' And ghost me would be sitting on my grave next to the person saying that, screaming: 'I HAD NO PROBLEMS THAT YOU KNEW OF BECAUSE YOU WOULD'NT LISTEN TO THEM!!!!'

So, I guess I have suicidal thoughts.

For the retarded everything that would make me go to years of therapy for saying that out loud, I will never try to blow my head off.

I just wonder what everybody would do if I was gone.

Not much of 'I wish I were dead.'

"Well, get over here."

I walk over and he embraces me.

We finish our awkward fest of who-knows-what, and he goes, yet again, for the fucking game.

I dart down the stairs.

That's the last hug you'll get from him for a long time...