Nixi pointed out that I haven't uploaded anything in a while, which makes me feel very sad about myself. Admittedly, I haven't been writing much lately (freaking schoolwork) so I wrote this just to get back into shape. If you have me on alert for my angsty gay horror, then I swear I will upload more in the future. Now, please enjoy this short little oneshot.

Warning: Unnecessary angst.

The zombie tries to bite Stan's leg. He smashes his baseball bat into its skull. Rotted brain matter explodes outwards and sticks to his bat and jeans. The skull caves in and the whole zombie collapses on itself.

"Go for their heads!" he screams, kicking out at another one.

"Got it!" Kyle yells, his back to the gym wall. He's armed with only a pointed stick. He shoves it through the eye socket of an approaching zombie. Wendy sends a roundhouse kick into an undead skull.

The half-human creatures keep coming in waves. The three teenagers back up, fighting their way to the gym door. Wendy is the first to reach it.

"Locked!" She punches the handle in frustration.

"One sec, I got it." Kyle kneels down next to the lock. "Cover me."

Sweat mats Stan's hair, even as the late-January wind freezes all perspiration into chunks of ice. He has to shift his position to hold the zombies off Kyle's back. Wendy battles next to him, sending out punch after punch, ducking under their gnashing teeth. Nine years of Jiu-Jitsu has paid off.

The lock lets out a clicking sound. "Got it!" Kyle says triumphantly, pulling his twisted-out paperclip from the lock. Wendy shoves it open and the three of them pile in. The zombies shuffle after them, but Kyle has already slammed the door shut.

The zombies moan and scratch at the door, but the weighted metal would withstand a tornado. Even so, Kyle and Stan grab mattresses from the high jump equipment and stack them up against the door, which will hopefully at least slow the zombies down should they figure out how to turn door handles.

"Holy shit." Wendy leans against the door, panting heavily. Stan crumples to the ground and lies on his back. He breathes deliberately, reclaiming oxygen.

Kyle, the long-distance runner, stays upright and alert. "Stan, is this your fault again?"

"Hey!" Stan snaps, although the exhaustion in his voice lessens the effect. "The zombies were Kenny's fault the first time!"

"You're the one who used magic from Harry Potter to summon them back in the fifth grade!"

"Hey, hey! I didn't think it would work. It was an accident. And you're the one who made a deal with the Lord of Evil in the seventh grade so you could get back at Cartman for burning down all the synagogues in Colorado-"

"Guys," Wendy says, standing up straight and wiping sweat out of her eyes. "It doesn't really matter who turned the entire population of North Park into zombies. We just have to follow the zombie rules and figure out who was the first zombie and kill them."

"I don't think these are pinkeye zombies," Kyle mumbles. "I think we're just going to have to follow the traditional rules and kill every last one of them. Besides, I have no idea who the original is."

Stan and Wendy glance at each other through the darkness, and shrug.

The school is creepy this time of night. Stan feels his way through the darkness for about five minutes before finding a light switch. The fluorescent lights give them all a sickly yellow glow. For a few seconds he feels stupid for being afraid. Then he remembers the zombies outside the gymnasium and decides fear is quite reasonable in this situation.

"I'm going to go look for some weapons," Kyle says. "Throughout the school, maybe. Maybe there's something in the gardener's shed. Didn't Mr. Garrison used to keep a shotgun in his desk?"

"Kay. I'll come with you." Stan pushes himself off the wall.

Kyle rolls his eyes. "No offense, guys, but you're both pretty out of shape."

"Hey, I play football!" Stan yelps.

"Yeah, my point exactly. And Wendy, I know you're pretty agile, but I don't want to risk having to look after you, too. I'm the fastest runner here, so I'll be able to get away if there are any zombies in the school. Just hang tight, okay? I'll be back in like five minutes."

He heads out the door into the hallway. Stan and Wendy stand there in complete awkwardness.

They've been trying to pull the whole 'best friend' thing ever since Stan broke up with her after coming out as 100% homosexual, but it hasn't worked out well so far. He catches her looking at him, and she catches him looking at her. Even the three of them teaming up to work on their biology project together (hence being out on the soccer fields at the middle of the night, looking for data, hence being randomly attacked by zombies) hasn't made the Awkward dissipate.

"So," Stan says. "Those zombies, huh?"

"Real original," she agrees. "What will our author come up with next? Vampires? Ghosts? Oh, the novelty."

"Yeah, I wish she'd have better premises." He squats on the tiles. By this time, his heart rate has died down a bit. She sits down next to him, a few feet away, close enough to touch.

It makes him realize they haven't actually been alone like this since he broke up with her a month ago.

"So you're gay," she says.

She's always had a knack for poaching the elephant in the room.

"Uh, yeah."

Outside, the zombies moan.

"Just like Kyle."

"Yup, we're both gay."

"You dated me on-and-off for nine years."

"Yup."

"I am female."

"I know that, Wendy." He pinches the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache. He really doesn't want to have this conversation with her.

"I love you."

He doesn't say anything.

"Are you and Kyle fucking either other?"

He stares at her in horror. "What? No! He's my best friend! Just because we're both gay doesn't mean we're fucking each other! Jesus, Wendy!"

"Well, do you like any boys?"

His words come out strained. "No. Is this really the time and place for it?"

"Yes," she says. "So. How do you know you're gay, then? If you don't like any boys?"

"I just know, okay?" he snaps. "I've never thought of girls as hot. I've had little crushes on guys over the years. And I've never wanted to get down and dirty with you, even though we dated for nine years."

He decides it's the light that makes her look so pale and drawn, rather than his words.

"You're an asshole," she mumbles, and buries her face in her hands. "I'm sorry. I accept the fact that you're gay. I think that's fine. It's just . . . I love you. And you said you loved me. And that was always a lie."

"No," he finds himself saying, even though he told himself he would never tell her the truth. "I was never lying."

She looks up at him and blinks. Her eyes are red and wide with confusion. "You're gay. You're not into girls."

"I know!" He rakes his fingers through his hair. "I'm not into girls. But you- you're- oh, Jesus Christ, Wendy!"

And now he can't stop the words from spilling out, even though he knows it will ruin anything.

"I've never wanted to have sex with you," he says, "and I don't want to hold your hand. I find boys sexy and that one time I made out with Craig in the ninth grade when we were both drunk at Bebe's party-"

She rubs her eyes. "I was so pissed about that."

"Yeah. And I'm sorry, but kissing him was better than kissing you ever was. It was all electricity and chemistry and sparks. And I'm sorry. That's my orientation. I'm – I'm really sorry."

She gnaws at her lip now, and he can see the tears building again, so he talks fast.

"But, goddamn it, Wendy, I know I've never wanted to do anything sexual with you. I just . . . I just want to be with you."

He looks away and refuses to meet her gaze.

"Then why'd you break up with me?" she says softly. He can feel her stare on him.

"You deserve a real guy," he mumbles. "A guy who would want to do that stuff with you. I didn't deserve to be your boyfriend. I-"

"You fucking moron," she bites out. "That sort of thing doesn't matter to be compared to having you."

She grabs his jaw and makes him look at her. He stares into her gray eyes the way he did a million times before.

"Idiot," she mumbles. "All I ever wanted was to be with you, too."

Her lips smash down on his. He hesitates for a second. Her mouth is soft and shy, completely unlike kissing a boy. And it weirds him out and excites him at the same time, because regardless of what's in her jeans, it's still Wendy. Still the girl who would run a charity to save orphans in Africa while sending a teacher into the sun out of jealousy. Still the girl who chews on her hair while she's thinking and takes her coffee with two sugars (he knows all her habits). She's still kickass and beautiful and regardless of how many x chromosomes she has, he loves her smile.

So he kisses back.

When they break apart, her lips expose her perfect white teeth in a grin.

"Idiot." She reaches out and brushes her thumb across his cheek.

They hear a mechanical roaring outside the gym. Kyle rushes in, covered in zombie guts and hefting a chainsaw. Zombies burst through the doors after him.

"We've got a problem!" he yells. The chainsaw slices through a zombie head. He steps back to join Stan and Wendy, who have stood up and raised their fists.

"They're in the school," Kyle says, rather unnecessarily.

The three of them prepare to fight for their lives.

If you were offended by the heterosexual content, you need to go bang your head against the wall several times.

Otherwise, please review!