The Sun and The Moon (south park stanxkyle)

Nothing matters, the importance of nothing

When Stan said those words, 'It's your mom,' my whole world went dark. All sounds faded into background noise, a senseless babble, I couldn't see. The room I was standing in fell away from me. I was no longer in Cartman's living room I was floating. I wasn't there anymore, I was gone, lost in the downward spiral that came with the inevitable wrath of Sheila Brovfloski. Being her son, it was something I was forminlar with but still hearing her shrill voice demand to know where I was made my blood stop pumping, everything froze, and despite the summer heat, and the sticky humidity of Cartmans's house, it was all gone, replaced with the cold chill that came with the mere mention of my mother's wrath.

A hand on my shoulder, warm against the still blood that was struggling to continue to course through my body. I focused my vision again retaking in my surroundings, slowly floating back to myself to the moment I was in and my horrible harsh reality. The humidity of the room returned, the slick sweat on my back keeping my shirt stuck to my back, my body was no longer cold but too hot. The sounds weren't back yet it all combined into a whirlwind of panic, voices talking, words being spoken, none of them hitting me. I looked down at the hand on my shoulder, Kenny's.

There were other hands, I was in Stan's arms, tucked safely in the comfort and safety of his arms, untainted. Stan for as long as I could remember, had always been my safety and comfort. The many other times things had gone wrong at home, the many other times my mother, as much as she loved me, had unleashed her wrath upon me. I was her crown jewel of the family, her prodigal son but there was so much pressure to do it all right, presues that I would crumble under in the safety of Stan. Everything would be alright if I had Stan, it would all be okay. I swallowed hard, my safe haven was tainted the panic spreading and thoughts being entertained about what would happen. The possibility of losing my safety, my haven, my Stan. My Stan.

I looked around to the panicked eyes, and concerned looks, meeting each of them and returning them without my own wide-eyed blank look. "I need to go," the words came out of my mouth, clumsily spilling out from my lips in a voice that didn't sound like my own. I was crying, when did I start crying? I weekly fumbled out of the grasp holding me and stood up drunkenly swaying on my panic.

"Dude wait stop," Stan's voice, the first to finally break through to me, called out. I turned and looked at him, his eyes glassy, was he crying?

"W-what are you going to do?" to my surprise Cartman asked. I shifted my gaze raising my eyebrows at his question, him of all people. Cartman's face shifted taking in my confusion and badly attempting to hide his own concern. As much as we fought it had gotten better, he had gotten better, enough now that his general sense of empathy allowed us to be actually considered friends, despite the act he tries to put on of hating me and not caring about anyone but himself.

"W-well it's just... you know?" he rubbed the back of his head backwardly. "You're moms' a huge bitch and like, she sounds pissed and well, I'm scared of her and you live with her," he said something under his breath and I wanted to laugh my suspicion of what he had uttered, something about the whole situation seemed comical almost.

"What was that uh- last part?" I asked, my voice still shaking as I was coming down my outburst of tears.

"Don't make me say it again you greedy jew," he said in a warning tone.

"Did I hear what I think I heard?" Kenny asked with a small smile, the concern for me still in his face.

"Kinny shut up, you're poor, poor people should never laugh," he said in the same tone he had addressed me in.

"Oh come on Cartman," Butters piped in patting on his wide shoulder.

"Fine!" he snapped, "I'm worried about the jew! Happy? We all good now? I said, 'I'm worried for you Kyle!'" he put extra empathize on the last couple of words, even saying my name correctly compared to his normal 'Khal'.

"Thanks, cartman," I tried to force a smile one that was lost on the guys.

"Wait Ky," Stan stood up off the floor and took my hand in his, "I should go with you."

"No, no just don't" I pulled my hand away waving my hands in a dismissing matter, "You'd just probably make it worse..." his face turned he looked hurt but nodded his head with understanding. Stan was rather well-tempered, except when it came to my mother. All those times I had come to take refuge in Stan, my Stan, it left him with a strong haterade of my mother. He wanted to put her in her place, rip her a new one, in his words. He cared, he wanted nothing more than protect me and the biggest threat to me in Stan's option was the emotional turmoil of my mother. I turned to leave again but was quickly pulled back into a tight embrace.

The arms of love, safety, and comfort, wrapped around me. The arms of my love, Stan's arms, my Stan. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, my Stan.