A/N: Hello everyone^^ I have had the idea for this story bouncing around for a long time, and I only recently managed to sit down and type out a chapter. This has a much different feel than anything else I've written, so I hope everything has turned out okay so far.

Just warning all of you out there who aren't huge fans of style, it starts out with that pairing. But don't worry, it's definitely not a Stan/Kyle fic. Just try to make it through the first chapter and a half and you won't be hearing much from Stan.

Anywho, I hope you guys give it a chance despite the nauseating fluffiness of this chapter- I promise this fic really will have some substanence, it's all just a matter of working up to it.

ENJOY!^^

The only thing I truly hated about Seattle was the rain. That constantly moist, dewy impression always hanging in the air. So palpable I felt wet every time I stepped outside. This might sound crazy coming from someone who grew up in South Park. Yes, it snowed there damn near all the time, but I could never shake the certainty that every time it was raining in Seattle, it was snowing in South Park. It plagued my thoughts every time I had to reach for my umbrella, or threw on my orange and green rain jacket that had replaced my winter coat. The foreign familiarity of it nearly drove me mad.

Don't misunderstand me- the last thing I wanted was to go back to living in that dead end town. The thoughts of having to look at my parents every day for the rest of my life sounded nothing short of suicide- there's just something about snow that will always be a part of me. It's so deeply imbedded into the comfort mentality of my brain that I feel almost lost without its constant presence. Stan kept telling me that I needed to give it more time, that I would soon grow to find just as much of that soothing essence in the rainy days there as the snow in South Park. I guess I just gave up, though. I guess I couldn't force myself to keep believing that. I guess I thought that five years should have been enough.

Some people just aren't born with that easily moldable frame of mind that can adapt to changes in their lives. Some people don't realize that what they truly wanted all along was the thing that had run from. Some people simply need that reset button, to give it all a second chance.

"Kyle?" Stan's voice rang from the living room, sounding tired. I shook myself and looked away from our bedroom window, breaking my dull stare at the rain pouring down in thick sheets outside. "Did you remember to take that rent check in?"

I glanced at the check sitting on my dresser drawer and bit my lip in worry. I had meant to take it in that morning, but I'd woken up late and forgotten. "Uh, not yet. I can take it now, if you want?"

Stan sighed as he entered the bedroom. He was rubbing his forehead in exhaustion, making me feel even worse. "Kyle, it's already late. You realize that if we keep this up, they're probably going to kick us out?"

I gazed apologetically up at him, silently cursing myself. "I know, I'm sorry. I just forgot this morning- I was running late for work."

Stan nodded, but still looked slightly irritated. I walked slowly up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him close so we could rest our foreheads together.

"I'll take it right now, okay?" I whispered against his face, watching with amusement as it turned faintly red. It never ceased to amaze me how Stan still managed to blush whenever I touched him.

"All right," he nodded in agreement, his voice loosing its edge. "I'm sorry I got upset it's just-" He paused for a moment to smile down at me. "I guess I didn't realize how hard it actually was to live on your own."

I smiled softly and pulled him a bit closer. "You're not on your own." I reminded, giving him a quick peck before stepping back. I snatched up the envelope on my dresser, giving Stan a sheepish look as he rolled his eyes at me.

"I'll be right back." I assured before darting out of the room.

Stan and I lived on the fourth floor of a very low grade apartment building in Seattle, Washington. It wasn't much to brag about, but it was the best two twenty-three year olds could do when one of them attended college and worked a part time job at a coffee house and the other worked in a publishing company.

Stan and I were the only two of our old group to leave South Park after high school. We had promised each other that we weren't going to end up like our parents- stuck in that intolerant mountain town for the rest of our lives. Neither of us kept in touch with any one from our hometown, and neither of us ever talked about it. Maybe we thought it would make it less real if we never mentioned anything from our past lives.

"Hey, Kelly!" I yelled, tapping on the thick glass window that separated the office in the lobby from the hallway. Kelly was one of the apartment lobby workers- the people we paid our rent to. She was a highly attractive woman- tall, brunette, and had the longest, most shapely legs you would ever see. If I wasn't so invested in Stan, and if she didn't already know we were, uh, "involved", I definitely would have asked her out by now. Is that atypical?

"Kyle!" Her voice was muffled through the glass as she smiled cheerfully at me and came to unlock the door. "I was just getting ready to head home for the day- what are you doing down here so late?"

I held up my check and gave her a sheepish grin. "Forgot the rent again."

Kelly made a tsking noise in the back of her throat and gave me a playful shove on the arm. "What are we going to do with you two?"

I wondered vaguely if she would flirt so blatantly with me if she didn't know I was dating a man. She smiled brightly at me and snatched the check out of my hands.

"Don't worry, I'll pretend like I lost it- Mr. Derk doesn't have to know it was late." She winked at me as she placed the envelope in the top drawer of her desk.

"Thanks so much, Kelly." I smiled gratefully at her before turning to leave.

"You should check the mail," she suggested as she pulled on her sleek, black raincoat. "I think I saw them put something in your box earlier today."

"It's probably just junk." I waved a dismissive hand at her and she giggled to herself.

"I'll see you around, Kyle. Tell Stan I said hi." She pulled her coat collar up around her face before disappearing down the hall, towards the entrance of the building.

I checked my pockets for my keys before heading towards the mail room. I really wasn't expecting anything important- Stan and I got in the habit of never checking our mail, since all we ever got was junk.

I sighed to myself as I entered the dark, stale room and searched for our box number.

"One thirty two… one thirty two…" I mumbled as I squinted at the small black letters, finding it hard to read them without my glasses.

I finally found the right box and shoved my key inside. When I opened the little metal door, I cursed as an overflow of letters came pouring out. I bent over quickly to pick them up off the ground and grabbed the rest from the mail box before slamming the door shut. I shoved the thick stack of papers into my back pocket as I climbed the four flights of stairs back to my apartment.

"Hi." Stan greeted quietly as I walked into the living room, throwing my keys on the coffee table in front of the couch. "Were they still there?"

"Yeah," I replied, rubbing my eyes tiredly. "Kelly was there. She told me to go check the mail box."

Stan cringed at the thought. "You didn't, did you?"

I pulled out the three inch stack of papers and Stan laughed quietly. "Should we go through it?"

I leaned forward a bit to look into the kitchen, trying to read the time on the microwave. It was almost midnight. Tomorrow was Saturday, so I didn't have to go into work at my secretary job until later.

"If we don't do it now, we never will." I shrugged and gave Stan half the pile. He starred at me for a moment with a fragile smile on his face before sifting through the letters.

My entire stack was junk mail except for one cell phone bill. Stan had thrown a credit card bill onto the cushion next to him, and I was about to pick it up when I saw him frown down at the unopened envelope he was holding. It looked like the address had been hand written.

"What is it?" I questioned, leaning over until our shoulders were pressed tightly together.

"It's… for you." He answered slowly as he handed it to me.

I starred confusedly down at the return address before ripping it open, almost tearing the paper inside in my haste.

Dear Kyle,

My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the hand writing as my younger brother's.

I know that you probably don't care, and you may not even read this letter, but I couldn't go through with this without at least trying to contact you. Mom and dad have told me over and over that you don't care, like a crappy mantra playing on repeat at every turn, but I don't want to give up on you. I want to believe that you still care. So, I'm writing to tell you that I'm getting married in three weeks. You don't know who she is, but I'd love it if you did. Kyle, if you care even the tiniest bit, come to my wedding. And, if you don't, I can leave it at that. I can finally let go.

Love,

Ike Broflovski

I sat in silence for a good three minutes after I finished reading, simply starring blankly at my brother's messy handwriting. It took me a few seconds before I realized Stan was trying to talk to me.

"…was it? Is it your parents?" I set the paper down and turned slowly to look into his cobalt eyes, the dimness of the room making them look especially dark.

"Ah- no. It's my brother." I replied, folding the letter up with shaking hands and shoving it back into its envelope.

"Your brother?" Stan gave me a puzzled look.

"Yeah. He's, uh… getting married." I looked up at the ceiling, down at the ground, and at the hands in my lap until Stan grabbed my face and made me look at him.

"Kyle, you have to go." He stated, like it was an undeniable fact.

My hands curled up into loose fists as I glared half heartedly at him. "I can't, Stan. I don't have the money, and you know that if I left I would never come back. Seeing my brother would be too much- I can't leave him again."

"Kyle! Your little brother is getting married. He wants you there!" Stan placed his hands on my shoulders and shook me desperately. "You have to go. I won't let you miss it."

I turned my head away and shook it slightly, starring determinedly at the ground. "I can't, Stan."

"Hey," Stan gripped my chin gently and made I let my gaze fall into his eyes. They were smoldering with a dark intensity I had only seen a few times in my life, making me shiver. "I trust you to come back," he smiled slightly and pushed a springy curl away from my face. "And I'll help you pay, if you need it."

"I couldn't let you do that." I demanded weakly, subconsciously realizing that I'd already lost the battle.

"Shut up." He smiled lovingly at me and his eyes swam with stars, making them shimmer as he leaned in closer and kissed me. I smiled against him and grabbed the back of his neck as I returned the kiss, pushing him back until he was lying down.

We kissed until we were both too tired to move anymore, and I sunk down on top of him, resting my cheek against his chest.

"When will you leave?" He asked softly as he combed his fingers through my hair.

"Probably next week. If I'm going to go, I want to be there for everything." I replied sleepily as I let my eyes drop shut, focusing on the feeling of Stan's fingers massaging my head.

"You'll have to let the office know tomorrow that you need time off." Stan suggested, his motions slowing as his eyes began to droop.

I snuggled closer to Stan and nodded against his chest. "Yeah, I'll tell 'em tomorrow… er, something." I slurred.

Stan smiled and let his hand rest in the tangles of my hair. "You'll have fun… glad you're going."

I frowned a bit and clutched onto the collar of Stan's shirt. "Love you." I whispered as I nuzzled his neck.

"You, too." Stan wrapped an arm across my back as his breathing began to slow, and we both fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up with my face shoved in-between the back of the couch and Stan's shoulder. I groaned and lifted my head to rest my chin on his chest, smiling to myself at the peaceful look on Stan's face as he slept.

"Stan." I whispered, bringing a hand up to stroke his cheek. His lips twitched into a smile and his eyes opened slowly.

"Morning." He said quietly as he slowly sat up, pulling me into his lap. "How did you sleep?"

"Not very well." I admitted, rubbing at my sore neck. "Let's not make a habit of falling asleep on the couch."

"Will do." Stan nodded as he placed a quick kiss on my forehead. He lifted me up by my waist and sat me on the cushion beside him as he stood up. "What time is it?" He questioned as he stretched, making his tight, blue shirt ride up his stomach.

"Uhm," I swallowed thickly and looked away, at the clock. "Just past six."

"We actually have time for breakfast this morning." Stan raised an eyebrow at me and smirked playfully.

"I'm not cooking, Stan. You know what happened last time." I held up my hands defiantly as he chuckled.

A few weeks ago, Stan had decided that he did too much of the cooking, and demanded that I make him dinner. I fucked up so bad that the smoke detectors went off, soaking the entire apartment and alerting the fire department. Needless to say, I was embarrassed enough by that one time to give it up for good.

"Fine." Stan rolled his eyes and scratched his stomach lazily as he shuffled towards the kitchen.

I stood up and followed him, taking a seat on the tiny island counter so I could watch him work. Stan was pretty fucking hot when he cooked, especially since he was an extremely messy person. He always ended up with flour or batter all over his face, and it was too adorable to miss.

"I hate it when you watch me." Stan commented as he glanced nervously at me. "It makes me spill things like, twice as much."

I smirked at him and shrugged. "Good. I think it's cute."

Stan blushed and looked away quickly, pulling down a bowl from the cabinet. He mumbled something along the lines of 'not cute' under his breath, and I just smiled. He was so easily embarrassed.

I hopped off the counter as he started mixing a variety of things in a large bowl. He stiffened slightly, but didn't turn around, trying his best to ignore me and continue stirring.

"Am I making you nervous?" I inquired, smirking to myself as he froze for a second.

"No." He muttered before continuing his now-erratic stirring. A small glob of the batter hit him in the face and he flinched.

I chuckled lowly and rested my chin on his shoulder. "Are you sure?" I purred into his ear, loving how it turned his entire face a dark red.

"Yes!" He squeaked defiantly, trying to jerk away from me. I secured my arms around his waist, though, halting his movement.

He gasped almost inaudibly as I licked away the fleck of batter on his cheek and giggled at his flustered face.

Stan groaned in frustration. "You can just make your own breakfast from now on." He threatened as I started massaging his sides.

"Really?" I drew out the word in his ear, making him shiver as I worked my hands lower, over his hips.

"God dammit, Kyle!" He swore in disorientation as my fingers moved over his stomach, kneading his abs.

"What's the matter? I thought I wasn't making you nervous." I took a step closer to him, pressing myself against his back as he struggled for words, dropping his whisk into the bowl of batter he'd been mixing.

"Okay," Stan's voice came out in a breathy whisper as he closed his eyes, trying his best to stay focused. "All right- that's enough." He stated, turning around and pressing his hands against my chest to shove me away, an angry glare set on his face.

"New rule," Stan started in an authoritative voice, placing a hand on his hip. I cocked an eye brow at his girly stance, but he ignored it. "You are no longer allowed in the kitchen while I'm cooking."

"You are not serious." I declared, smirking at his tone.

"I am dead serious, Kyle. I can't get anything done with you groping me!" He accused, throwing his hands into the air in exasperation.

"Aw, come on, man! It's not my fault you look good when you cook." I nearly shouted, immediately turning red after realizing I had admitted my only reason for loitering in the kitchen.

Stan raised an inquisitive brow at me, but didn't say anything, simply pointed towards the living room.

"Fine, I'll just go… take a shower." I winked suggestively at him as I made to walk away, but he wasn't fazed. He just turned his back on me and resumed his cooking.

I humphed in dejection as I made my way back to the bedroom, already dreading the coming day. I was not looking forward to asking my boss for time off of work. I knew it wasn't going to go well- I only had four days of vacation time saved up and I was asking for two weeks off? Yeah, right. I'm just a secretary, it's not like I'm irreplaceable. But I had always been one for standing up for what I believe in. And seriously, if someone could really be so cold-hearted as to deny their struggling, barely twenty-year-old employee their plea to watch their only brother walk down the aisle, then fuck them. The job was shit anyways. All I did was listen to whiny, rejected authors dramatically retell their life's tragedies, and put up with the pussies who worked as assistants to the executives constantly giving me shit. Apparently there is a very popular hazing process among the male secretary line of business that I was never informed- or at least those jackasses thought it necessary to come up with one. I don't know why they didn't understand that working as a fuckin' secretary shouldn't be any man's ambition, and that just because assistant is a fancy word for secretary, it doesn't make them cooler. But obviously the difference between working in the lobby of the company and working just outside the executive's offices is a major difference I wasn't clued into.

There is a reason why I was working at a publishing company, if you were wondering. I had packed up and left South Park with Stan because I wanted to make something out of myself. I wanted to do something other than work at Harbucks or Tom's Rhinoplasty, struggling to pay my bills at minimum wage. I wanted to be an editor- Reading had always been a big passion of mine, and I got A's in all my writing classes in high school. The University of Seattle had a great English program that I figured would earn me a decent degree. When Stan and I got there, however, I was hit with the realization that I simply had not saved up enough money to head straight for a university, even with the help of a scholarship. So I enrolled in the community college to get my basics out of the way, but I needed a way to make money once I had finished. One of my professors at community had mentioned that if you could get a job at one of the local publishing companies, and you were planning on majoring in English, that the University would put credits towards your graduation. When I mentioned this to Stan he didn't waste any time in dragging me to every publishing company in the city until one of them said they'd hire me. And thus began my wonderful career as a gay man working a job mainly occupied by women.

"Breakfast is ready!" I was jolted out of my trance by Stan's voice. I quickly threw on one of my nice, button up shirts and slacks before heading back to the kitchen.

"Looks good." I commented, rubbing my hands together as I sat down at my plateful of chocolate pancakes. Hey, I said Stan was a good cook, not a grown up one. I was pretty sure he didn't know how to make anything other than the finger foods and sweets his mom used to fix for him as a kid.

"Thanks." Stan smiled sweetly at me as he sat down across the table from me. "So, are you going to let them know you're taking two weeks off today?"

I paused with my fork mid way to my mouth and forced a smile on my face. "Yeah, of course." I inwardly cowered at the thought of making my way up to the executive office and telling my boss. That was not going to go over well.

"I wish you could come with." I sighed as I shoved my forkful of pancakes into my mouth.

Stan nodded. "Me too, it's too bad I can't take off school as easily as you can work."

I smiled in agreement, but silently wished that I was going to school with him right now, instead of being stuck at my lame-ass job. If only I had saved up more of my money, like Stan, I would have been able to. At least I didn't have to work part time at the old coffee shop down the street, but even that didn't sound so bad, according to Stan.

"It'll go quick though," I reassured. "I'll be back before you know it."

Stan smiled at this, but it seemed a bit distant, like his mind was somewhere else. I shrugged this off as I finished my breakfast and stood up to take my plate to the sink.

"I might be home a little early today," I started as I ran the plate under some hot water. "Maybe I'll stop by that Blockbuster on 160th and pick up a movie?"

"Sounds good." Stan's voice came from behind me and I placed my dish in the sink before turning around to face him. Sometimes I couldn't believe how attractive he was in comparison to me. In the dim lighting of our crappy little kitchen, his eyes managed to maintain their sparkle and his dark hair hung in a careless disarray, a few of the longer pieces falling into his face. I gasped as he suddenly reached out to grab a hold of my shirt and pulled me roughly to his chest.

"I love you." He said simply, not looking at me in the face as he rested his cheek on my head.

I laughed softly and placed my palms on his chest. "I love you, too."

I appreciated this gesture more than he could ever understand- I knew he was trying hard to make us work. Stan and I got together officially after we had moved. I think we both knew all along that that was one of the major factors in our decision to leave. We couldn't be together in that town. There was no way we could keep our sanity while people constantly whispered behind our backs. Having other people know everything about my love life was not something I could handle, but that's just how that town worked. Nothing was private. Stan had a difficult time in the beginning of our relationship- I think it was tough for him to accept that he actually had feelings towards another guy. But really, what did he expect? We had been that way since we were in preschool; he had to know that relationships like ours couldn't simply settle into a domesticated life. We would always have to be together in some way or another. Maybe the bond that we shared wasn't deep, couple love, but it sure as hell wasn't platonic. It was something so much deeper than both, blowing past the tiny spectrum that people had grow so used to and creating it's own rules and expectations.

I glanced over Stan's shoulder at the time on the microwave and reluctantly pulled away from him. "I have to leave for work."

"Okay," he grabbed my face and kissed me passionately, igniting that sensation in my soul that only he could reach. "I'll see you later." He whispered huskily as he released me, watching amusedly as I stumbled across the kitchen, my eyes glazed over and my breathing slightly heavy.

"Yeah, bye." I called dazedly over my shoulder as I slipped my shoes on and headed out the door.

Another thing I disliked about Seattle was how big it was. I was so used to being able to walk everywhere I went that having to ride around a cramped, smelly bus was completely unappealing. I guess it was just the price I had to pay, though, to get out of South Park. To live the rest of my life with Stan.

I held my breathe as I made my way up the steps covered in other people's gum and sat down in the first empty seat I found.

If the bus itself wasn't bad enough, then the people that rode it were. You wouldn't believe the kind of psychopaths that took advantage of their public transportation. I once saw a guy who tried to bring his pet chinchilla on the bus, but the driver demanded that he leave it off. Considering this, it's really saying something that five years in Seattle were still no equivalent on the weirdness scale as five days in South Park.

The ride was relatively short, and I soon found myself outside of the large stone building I was so familiar with. I sighed resignedly as I pushed open the front doors and headed to my small desk near the entrance. I figured I'd wait until the end of the day to ask my boss, Mr. Winston, but I suddenly wasn't sure if I could wait. My stomach was twisting itself into knots at the thoughts of having to sit behind my small wooden desk all day and listen to people bitch. I couldn't think of a better time to ask, though, since I wanted to make it seem like I was doing something productive and didn't have the time to stop during work hours.

I was lucky that it was a slow day like I had predicted. They ended up closing at five, almost two hours earlier than usual, and I only had to take six calls all day. This made my day considerably more boring, but more bearable at the same time.

I shut down my computer and grabbed the rain jacket that strongly resembled my old, padded winter coat off the back of my chair. I took the stairs up to Mr. Winston's office, hoping that I could control my nerves in the time it took to get there.

As I climbed my last flight of stairs I noticed that there was only one office still occupied. Luckily it was my boss's, though I had figured he'd still be there- he usually didn't leave until an hour after closing. I took a deep breathe before knocking on his door.

"Come in!"

I stepped inside and held my coat nervously in front of myself, unconsciously using it to shield myself.

"Oh, hello- Chris, right?" He greeted, smiling jovially at me.

"Actually-" I started to correct him but he cut me off.

"Take a seat, Chris, take a seat." He motioned to the incredibly uncomfortable looking, high-backed chair in front of his desk. I forced a smile before grudgingly complying.

"What is it that you need?" He questioned, looking down at some papers on his desk as he readjusted his glasses.

"Well, I was just wondering if I could have some time off?" I posed my question confidently, trying to ignore the voice in my head that said he was about to laugh at me.

He didn't laugh, though. Thank God.

"What for?" He questioned curiously, eyes gazing at me over the frame of his glasses.

"Uh," I swallowed loudly and fidgeted in my chair. "My little brother is getting married."

"Really? Well, give him my congratulations." Winston replied, placing his palms down on his desk.

I nodded politely. "I will, sir. Thank you."

"You know," he started, face showing no readable emotions. "We don't usually allow people to take vacations whenever they want, and if I am correct I think you only have four vacation days saved up."

I dropped my head to look at the ground. "I know, sir. I wouldn't even be asking if it wasn't for the fact that I haven't been home in over five years."

Winston nodded as he listened to me. "Well, normally I'd say no, but corporate has been encouraging that we find ways to help our employees relax. Everyone has been so stressed out lately, and business is slow." He paused for a moment, obviously lost in his own thoughts. "Anyways- I guess what I'm saying is that it's okay."

I smiled thankfully at him. "Thank you so much, sir."

He waved a hand dismissively through the air. "What day will you be leaving?"

"Next Monday." My response was immediate despite the fact that I hadn't chosen a specific day before that moment. Maybe I was more excited to go back than I thought?

"Okay, okay." Winston nodded and raised a hand to shoo me out of his office. He apparently had more important things to get to. "That'll be just fine, Chris."

The thought of correcting him passed through my mind as I stood up to leave, but I ultimately decided against it. After all, he did just let me take a ton of vacation time I didn't even have.

"See you tomorrow, Chris." That was a lie. I never saw any of the executive hot shots down in the lobby; I would have to make the effort of going all the way to the fifth floor to see any of them. I let it go, though, and gave him a small wave as I exited his office.

I stopped by the movie rental store on my way home and picked up a movie I thought Stan would like, even if it didn't look too appealing to me. It was strange how things worked like that once you were in a relationship with someone. Suddenly the things you want seem to take a backseat to what you believe your significant other would want. I honestly didn't even think about this as I browsed for movies, but I wasn't looking for a film I wanted to watch. The thought never even crossed my mind. It was what Stan wanted; it was always want Stan wanted for me then.

When I got back, the apartment was dirty. Not unbearably so, but with the distinct appearance that someone had been left there with nothing to do all day. I smiled to myself as I stepped over a pair of Stan's jeans in the living room. He was honestly one of the messiest people I had ever met. Seriously, who throws their jeans off in the living room?

"Hey." I turned around at the sound of Stan's voice coming from the hallway to the bedroom. Was it possible for someone to be more perfect than he was? His lips were quirked up at the edges in a familiar smile, his skin was white and pale, and he must have thrown his shirt off in some random room during the day. I'd probably find it on top of the stove later, or something like that.

"Hi." I smiled goofily at him for a moment, earning an amused look. "Uh- I got us a movie." I blurted, holding up the case as he came over to inspect it.

"Awesome!" He exclaimed, face lighting up like a five year old on Christmas day. "I've been wanting to see this."

"Thought so."

Stan shuffled over to our shitty DVD player we had purchased as a garage sale and popped the disc in. I sat down on the couch and flipped on our twenty-five inch television. It was also purchased at a garage sale. The same one, if I remember right.

"Did you talk to your boss?" Stan questioned as he came to sit next to me, throwing an arm around the back of my seat.

"Yeah," I nodded and looked up at him, his blue eyes catching the light and reflecting my image in them. "He said it was okay."

Stan's face broke out into an infectious smile. "That's great, Kyle!"

"I know." I agreed, smiling back at him. "Thanks."

"For what?" He questioned, head tilting to the side in confusion.

"For convincing me I should go. I don't think I could live with myself if I missed this."

"I know, dude. I know." He smiled again as he let his hand fall onto my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

Right in that moment, I thought that live could never get any better. Living in that decrepit apartment complex with the raven haired beauty who had always been synonymous to happiness and fulfillment in my life- that was my perfection. I believed that we were destined, and would live out the rest of our lives just that way. I thought we were connected in a way that could not be matched, could not be outdone, and would not allow us to be torn apart. I was ignorant, and childish, and naive. I was everything but truly enlightened on any situation.

Who knew that two weeks back in South Park, Colorado could change anyone's perspective on life so dramatically?

A/N: So? Was it too fluffy? I knew it was going to be too mushy gushy, but it just kept coming out and I couldn't stop myself! Haha^^

Let me know why you guys thought- Thanks!