Work Text:
Deep breaths. Take deep breaths.
"Come on, Stanley. You've got to help me out here." The sound of his mom's voice doesn't soothe him at all. In fact, it just makes him hold on tighter to her sweater. It's his first day of Kindergarten, who can blame him? His whole life up until this point has been spent alongside family members. Someone he knows and trusts always looking out for him.
A loud ringing pierces through the air, rattling Stan's bones. His shoulders tense as he squeezes his eyes closed shut. He shoves his face into his mother's side, inhaling her scent and letting her fuzzy brown sweater consume him.
"That was the bell, Stanley. Run along now, it's time to get to class." Usually, her words calm him and make sense to him. Right now it's like she's speaking gibberish. She wants him to leave her side? What happened to him being her plus one to everything?
Sharon nudges Stan off of her, holding his shoulders as she stares down at her son. "I know it's stressful, honey. But you're gonna love it." She holds out a pinky finger, watching as Stan wipes his eyes free of tears before he wraps his pinky around hers. "I promise."
_ - + *
Upon stepping into his classroom, he hardly loves it. His teacher looks young, like she doesn't have many years of experience. And her way of frantically running around to check on everyone solidifies that observation.
Stan lets his eyes wander around the classroom, silently enjoying all the decoration the teacher used for the walls. He notices a few kids, one of them is particularly scary looking, angry faced as he plays with toy firetrucks. Another kid looks awfully mean, his big demeanor towering over a blonde boy who looks stressed out to no end, kind of like how Stan is feeling.
Stan's legs feel sore from standing all day and from practically dragging his mother as far away from the school building as he could. Clearly it wasn't far, because he's making his way over to a table to let his legs rest inside that very building.
At the table, there's two boys. They both have small plastic containers filled with different colors of paint surrounding them. Stan examines them both. One of them is wearing an orange parka that covers half of his face. He dips both of his hands into some paint, and that's when Stan makes the horrifying observation that he doesn't have his sleeves rolled up. His sleeves will never be the same color. The other boy, Stan immediately notices, is wearing a bright and bold colored jacket. It's orange, too, but a different shade. One more vibrant. Stan debates whether or not he likes it and after a moment, he decides he does. This boy is also wearing a green hat with funny looking flaps. Stan decides he likes his hat, too.
Stan approaches their table, deciding to sit next to the boy with the funny hat. He seems the most interesting out of anyone else in this room, with his concentrated expression and his rolled up sleeves.
"Hi." Stan says, grabbing the attention of the vibrant boy. He looks Stan up and down before he lifts up a paint-covered hand in a wave, his teeth showing as he smiles.
"Hey." He replies, going back to his art. "I'm finger painting right now, wanna join?" At his words, Stan looks down at the boy's paper. He's dabbing on a yellow dot of paint in the top right corner with his thumb. It's the sun, Stan notes. Because he has a sky and grass.
"No, that's okay." Stan smiles, lifting his hands and examining them. "I don't wanna get my hands all dirty on my first day." The other hums in acknowledgment.
A few seconds go by of the vibrant boy finger painting as Stan watches him. It should feel awkward, but it doesn't. Almost like he was meant to be here, in this moment. "So what's your name?" Stan asks.
The other doesn't take his eyes off his paper. He keeps this concentrated look on his face as he replies. "I'm Kyle." He takes a moment to dip his pointer finger in some black paint, using his nail to paint birds in the sky. "And you?"
"I'm Stan." His eyes wander over to the other boy the opposite side of Kyle. He has his head down, his paint covered hands painting something messily on his paper. "And what's his name?"
Kyle takes his eyes off his paper to look at the other boy, his face blank. He stares for a second before turning to Stan. And that's when Stan sees his eyes for the first time, a gorgeous shade of green that Stan swears he's never seen before. As if his eyes created a new color all on their own. They're almost as vibrant as his clothes. "I don't know. He doesn't really talk much." Kyle explains, snapping Stan out of his thoughts.
Stan furrows his eyebrows. He leans on the table to get a better look at the kid in the orange parka. "Hey." He says. "What's your name?"
The kid lifts his head and glances at Stan. Then he looks back down at his paper to finish whatever he was painting. And after a moment, Stan thinks he's being ignored. But just as he's about to sit back down in his seat, the kid lifts up his paper and in messy handwriting paint spells out the word "Kenny."
"Kenny? That's your name?" Kyle questions, ripping the words straight from Stan's thoughts. Kenny nods, a few loose strands of his dirty blonde hair bouncing as he does.
"Hi Kenny!" Stan exclaims through a smile. "I'm Stan, and this is Kyle." Kenny gives him a look that says "oh really?" And Stan shrinks in on himself a bit before Kenny reaches out his hand to shake Stan's. "Oh." Stan says. He eyes Kenny's blue paint infested hand and smiles politely. "Uh, no thanks dude."
Kyle immediately burst out in laughter, resisting from clutching his chest due to his fingers still being covered in paint. And Stan just stares. He knows it's not nice to stare, but he can't look away. Kyle's laughing, and Stan swears he just got ten times more vibrant. His smile, his faint freckles, that one strand of ginger curl that fell out from beneath his funny looking hat. Stan is mesmerized.
"Hey losers." A voice pierces through the atmosphere, effectively killing the vibe. Kyle stops laughing. "Couldn't help but notice you guys over here finger painting." The kid says. He sits across the table from them. Stan recognizes him as the mean looking guy from earlier, the big one who made that blonde kid look stressed. "I'm Cartman."
Stan and Kyle share a look before turning back to the new kid. "Hey, sorry, could you sit somewhere else?" Kyle says with a smile.
"What? Are you bullying me?" Cartman almost shouts. He raises his hand and the frantic teacher comes practically running over. "This kid is bullying me." He says, giving the teacher a pouty face as he points as Kyle.
"Broflovski." The teacher says, giving Kyle a stern look. "We don't tolerate bullying in this class, do you hear?" Kyle's jaw drops. He tries to stutter out a response, but the teacher cuts him off. "This is a warning. If I catch you doing this again, you're going to the timeout corner." That shuts Kyle up.
As she walks away, Cartman wipes off the lost puppy look on his face to smile smugly at Kyle. "Looks like we're all gonna be good friends." He says.
And that was Stan's first day of Kindergarten, the day that determined his friend group for as long as he lives in South Park.
_ - + *
"As you guys should know by now, we live in a world where soulmates exist. Every person born here on earth has that special someone who, if you're lucky enough, will meet.
How do you know if you've met your soulmate? Soulmate marks. Soulmate marks are formed on the skin right across your heart, kind of like a tattoo. For every person in history, their soulmate mark is the sentence of what their soulmate first thought of them when they met. All we can do is hope that our soulmates have a creative imagination, because if their first thought of you is something basic, then it is harder to find your soulmate."
Stan slumps on top of his desk, groaning and rolling his eyes. How many times do they need to go over this? It's like their fifth time addressing soulmates and soulmate marks this semester. It's getting old.
Kenny leans over to Stan from the right, where his assigned seat is. He cups his hand over his mouth and whispers. "Every time I see a girl, I think 'Wow! She's smoking.' Because I want my soulmate to have that tattooed right across her ti-"
"Oh my God Kenny, shut up." Kyle says. He sits in front of Stan. Right now he has his hand on the back of his chair as he twists his torso around to glare at Kenny. "That's no way to talk about your future soulmate."
"Oh right, like I'm gonna take advice from the guy who won't show anyone his soulmate mark." Kenny retorts, folding his arms and glaring back at Kyle.
Kyle flushes. Anytime anyone brings up his soulmate mark he gets embarrassed. Nobody knows what it says, what's the point of being embarrassed if no one even has the material to shame you? "That's not important." He says, swatting his hand at Kenny.
Stan lifts his head off his desk, keeping his eyes closed while he adds to the conversation. "I think this whole soulmate thing is exhausting, honestly. It was fun the first time we learned about it in middle school, but now it's just boring."
Kyle sighs. "Yeah. That's fair. This seems pretty excessive." He gestures to their teacher.
Stan brings his attention back to his teacher and she's still explaining what soulmate marks are and why people have them. Stan frowns, letting his head thump against his desk again. Growing up, soulmate marks weren't really important. It was like something that was there that nobody really talked about. Stan wasn't interested in learning, either. Until he got his mark. He doesn't remember the exact time, just that it happened some time during Kindergarten. Which is the year he met everyone he knows to this day.
It sucks, knowing that you're destined to be with someone. Getting your soulmate mark so young is hard, because it really sets in stone the fact that your love life is already determined for you the second you're born. Stan tried to start dating during his freshman year of highschool, a pretty girl named Wendy. Stan never really connected with her, and a few months later they broke up because she didn't have her mark yet, and Stan did. It was bound to fail from the beginning.
Stan's mark says "I like the way he looks." Which obviously never helped him find his soulmate. Like his teacher said, it's hard to find your soulmate if what your mark says is something basic.
"Seriously, Kyle." Stan decides to say. "You know we're all curious what your soulmate mark says. You can't keep wearing T-shirts whenever we go swimming forever, dude."
"It's just embarrassing." Kyle explains. He huffs out a breath of air, effectively moving a loose curl away from his eye. After all these years, Stan still thinks that Kyle is mesmerizing. Maybe it's the freckles, or those green eyes, or his curly mess of red hair that he only really lets Stan see. Or maybe it's the fact that even without all of those brightly colored clothes that he grew out of, he's still the most vibrant person Stan's ever met.
"Whatever." Kenny smiles. "You'll have to tell us one day."
_ - + *
"I'm totally gonna get my soulmate mark today you guys." Cartman leans against his locker in the boys locker room. The only class that all four of them have together is walking class, the easiest PE class to earn credit. All you do is walk around town and buy snacks from stores.
"What makes you so sure, fatass?" Kyle's favorite thing to call Cartman. It earns a snicker from Kenny practically every time. This time, it doesn't. He's too busy changing into his PE shorts to hear their conversation, apparently.
"Because we're going on a walk around town today? Everyone signed their permission slips, we're allowed to leave campus. Gives me all the time in the world to pick up chicks."
"Yeah, not like it would be the other way around. I don't think a 'chick' could pick you up even if she wanted to." Kyle says, laughing along with Stan after he gives Kyle's shoulder a soft punch.
"Whatever." He's mad, Stan can tell. Cartman always gets this puffy-cheeked look whenever Kyle's jokes actually get to him. "Go change your shirt in the bathroom stall like you always do. Your soulmate mark probably says 'look at that freak ginger with no soul.' You Jew."
Kyle rolls his eyes and does just that, goes to change his shirt in the bathroom stall. Growing up, Kyle and Cartman have never gotten along. Ever since they met on the first day of Kindergarten they've been at each other's throats. Recently Kyle has been more tolerant of Cartman. But he can only ignore him for so long before he erupts. And Stan would never say it aloud, but he kind of likes it when Kyle erupts. Because then he gets to calm Kyle down, an excuse to touch his shoulder or hold his hand.
Stan's always felt this way. He's always had the urge to just be close to Kyle, and he's always brushed it off as being best friends. But lately just simply being around Kyle has been making his heart beat faster. Even now, Stan clutches his hand over his heart, over his soulmate mark, in an attempt to slow his heart rate.
"Hey, Marsh." Kenny pats Stan on the back. He has his shirt half on, revealing the blank skin above his heart that displays no soulmate mark. Stan frowns. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Fine."
_ - + *
Fall in South Park is just the same as winter with the addition of fallen leaves mixed in the snow. Mounds of soft white with hints of oranges and reds and yellows scattered around, the kind of place you might dream of.
Stan steps on a particularly crunchy patch of snow. He looks down and lifts his foot, seeing a small pile of orange leaves. "Hey." He says, picking a specific one up. "This one kind of matches your hair."
Kyle smiles at Stan, clearly amused. He looks away and stares at the snow as he treads through it carefully. "It doesn't. Are you color blind?"
"Oh really?" Stan accepts that challenge. With a cocky grin, he yanks off Kyle's ushanka and hides it behind his back. He quickly lifts the leaf up to Kyle's hair before he can react. "See? It's a perfect match."
"Oh you-" Kyle slaps his hand away then reaches behind Stan. He misses the first time he reaches for it. And the second time, Stan lifts his hand up and ruffles Kyle's curls, making them more frizzy than they already were. "Stan!" Kyle yells, but he has a small smile on his face when he attempts to glare at him.
They laugh together for a bit before Kyle's ears turn pink and Stan has to pull the ushanka back over his messy hair. The snow continues to crunch beneath their feet as they continue their way back to Kyle's house. On a normal day, Stan would be waiting for his mom to pick him up from high school like some little kid. He always hated the drive from school to that horrible farm. But today is a Friday, which means it's the night Stan gets to spend at Kyle's. He always gets the best sleep at Kyle's, even when he sleeps on a makeshift bed on the floor. It might be the reassuring sound of Kyle's breathing, but he tries not to think about it too hard.
Kyle takes a right and Stan stumbles after him. He hadn't even realized they were already at Kyle's, too engrossed with his own thoughts. He watches as Kyle swipes his shoes on the house mat before opening the front door, an action that always amused Stan. Maybe it's because at home nobody does that. Especially his dad, who barges in the house with boots covered in so much mud he leaves a trail to the kitchen.
"What are you doing, dude? Come in." Kyle says, looking at Stan with confusion. It's then that he realizes he's been watching Kyle take his shoes off from outside, the front door wide open, a breeze that makes Kyle shiver perfectly displaying why that's a problem.
"Oh shit, sorry."
"What's with you today?" Kyle smiles, but there's a hint of concern behind his eyes that Stan tries to shake off.
"What do you mean?" He takes off his shoes with struggle, socks soaked in melted snow not helping with easing them off. It's a minute before Kyle responds, allowing Stan the comfort of taking off his shoes.
"I don't know, you've just been preoccupied with something. Got a lot on your mind?"
"No." His answer is abrupt, short. But he immediately feels green eyes on him and he knows that they can see through his bluff, just like how they can see through everything else he's ever said. It's like they have one shared mind instead of two separate ones, always thinking the same thing, always able to communicate with looks alone. "It's just." He's never able to keep anything from Kyle for long, a weakness of his. "I turn sixteen in a couple weeks. I'm gonna get my license, I'll have the opportunity to get a job. But it's like my life is moving, things are happening, people are growing up, and yet I still have the same sentence etched across my chest. I still go everyday with the knowledge that I've already met my soulmate and I don't know who it is, meanwhile others are finding their soulmates. Can you believe it? Cartman? He actually found his soulmate today, during walking class. What bullshit is that?"
"Yeah." Kyle sighs. "That is bullshit." He has this angry look on his face before it drops, probably considering what Stan just told him. "You know, I feel the same way a lot of the time." He confesses, and Stan perks up. Kyle rarely talks about soulmates or soulmate marks. "About people growing, I guess. I wish I could've grown with my soulmate. Well, I guess I did, technically. With this." He lifts a hand and holds it against his heart, a frown on his face. Stan is dying to know what his says, but knows this isn't the time. "It just sucks to know that my soulmate is experiencing things such as birthdays without me. I wish I knew. I wanna stop thinking and guessing and just know. You know?"
"I know." Stan knows all too well, because that's exactly how he's felt since he got his soulmate mark. A constant reminder that he could be with someone right now, someone who's supposed to be his other half, compliment him in every way, and he just doesn't know who it is. It's plain, it's simple, and it's gut wrenching. He just doesn't know, and his soulmate could be right there in front of him.
Kyle shifts and Stan looks at him. He still has this frown on his face that hurts Stan more physically than he knows it should, yet he doesn't do anything about it. Doesn't do anything to comfort Kyle, even though he has this bone breaking urge to kiss away all his sorrows. It's almost primal, the want to hold Kyle in his arms, and it comes so abruptly it almost knocks Stan over. But that's how most of his Kyle-related thoughts have been recently. Like a shiver; something that runs straight through him. A thought that enters his brain before he can force it away.
"Let's go to my room. It's warmer upstairs."
And that's all the reasoning Stan needs.
_ - + *
Two dumb movies that Stan's sure he won't remember in the morning and an hour of Call of Duty gameplay later, and the visible snow falling outside through Kyle's bedroom window is proving itself to be more of a problem than originally anticipated.
"It's fucking freezing." Stan announces, dropping his Xbox controller and flopping down on the bed, the familiar and soft feeling of Kyle's blanket warming him not nearly enough.
"What do you want me to do about that?" He has his ushanka off, eyes still trained on the TV as he blows a curly strand away from his eye. An action Stan's seen more than once. An action that makes Stan's heart swell with fondness. There's a lot of things Stan wants Kyle to do about that, he realizes suddenly. He wants him to climb in bed with him and hold him until morning, sharing their body warmth like they seem to share their mind. But he pushes the thought away, because he's getting pretty sick of having these thoughts and not being able to do anything about them.
"I don't know, man." Stan rolls over onto his back, watching the other's gameplay as he gets shot by some sniper, the replay showing as Kyle tosses his Xbox controller to the side and turns off the TV. "You actually suck at that game."
"I do not." He immediately protests. "I lost on purpose." But the second Kyle says that he starts laughing, his own words getting to him.
"You suck and you know it."
"Can it." Kyle huffs, his laughter dying down but the smile still evident on his face. He pushes Stan over, basically rolling him onto his side, and lays down on the bed. Just Kyle being this close to him makes Stan feel warmer. They're not even touching, a few inches apart on Kyle's queen sized bed, but he still can feel the warmth radiating off of the other. Maybe it's part of his vibrant-ness.
Stan notices the freckles on Kyle's arm, the same ones that seem to be scattered across his entire body. He imagines reaching out and touching them, tracing them with his finger nail as Kyle shivers against his touch. Kyle seems to notice the staring. "Still thinking about soulmates?" He's not, but it's a good cover up, so he says he is. "Dude, stop." Stan gets scared that maybe he let his imagination run wild and he accidentally actually reached over and began caressing Kyle's arm like he's worshipping each and every freckle. But he sees Kyle's piercing green eyes on him and he remembers what he just said. Kyle wants him to stop thinking about soulmates, right.
"I just can't." He has to deflect. "I mean, don't you think about soulmates? I've only ever heard you talk about them once."
"Of course I think about soulmates." Kyle snorts. His eyes drift away and land on the ceiling, so he turns his body to lay on his back, like Stan. "I think about them a lot. The whole concept. Do you ever wonder if maybe your soulmate doesn't want you? Like I dunno, they don't even like you as a person?"
"Kyle, that's stupid." But neither of them laugh.
"It's something to think about."
"You really think about that? What, are you scared your soulmate won't like you?"
"I mean, there's a reason I don't show anyone my soulmate mark."
"It can't be that bad." Silence. Stan's getting worried now. Back when they were younger, Kyle had self esteem issues. It got so bad he started avoiding Stan because he thought he was burdening him with his bad looks or something. He got over it. He stopped caring about his looks, but that doesn't mean he can't worry about his personality. The guy does have anger issues.
"Except it is. I think my soulmate looked at me, thought that one thought, and decided to never look my way again. Maybe that's why I don't know who it is."
"Kyle, come on. That's not true, I'm sure your soulmate thinks you're awesome." Who wouldn't? "What does your mark even say? Why are you so worked up about it?" Stan hadn't noticed, but his heart is bumping fast, the noise making it's way to his ears. And he can't keep his eyes off Kyle. It's as if they're magnets, and Kyle's their metal.
"Why do you care so much?" Kyle retaliates. And Stan has been prying, so he feels only slightly bad before remembering Kyle's stupid reason for never telling anyone.
"Dude, if you just told me then I could help you find your soulmate."
"Doesn't mean you have the right to nag me all day. Seriously, you and Kenny both. Shit, Cartman too. Just whining about my soulmate mark."
"Whining? I just wanna help."
"Well you're not, are you?"
"Because you won't let me!"
Somewhere during their fight, they both turned on their sides and started glaring at each other. It's a petty fight, Stan knows. Both of them are just being stubborn. The snow's still falling outside, Stan notices when he feels Kyle's shivers through the mattress.
"Look, I'm sorry. I was being stubborn, I guess." It's a pretty lame apology, Stan realizes. So he spits out the next thing that comes to mind to make up for it. "I think you're the most vibrant person I've ever met. If your soulmate doesn't like you, then so what? Soulmates might not even be real, anyway."
Kyle's eyes widen, his shivering stops. Stan's never seen him look so confused. He usually has this dumbly endearing look on his face like he knows everything. But in this moment, he looks sort of lost. At a loss for words, even. "What?" He says.
"What do you mean what? Soulmates might not be real, dude. I mean think about it."
"No, no. What'd you say before that?"
He just said the truth, said the thing he's thought since he first met Kyle. He's vibrant, his hair, his eyes, his personality, his hat, even that orange coat he wore throughout all of elementary school. It's like he steps into the room and Stan immediately notices his glow. A room is ten times brighter if Kyle's in it.
"Stan." His voice is dripping with a serious tone, one Stan only ever hears when he's explaining why schoolwork is important. Like what he's saying is important, like it's life changing. "Stan, did you just call me vibrant?"
"Well when you say it it sounds stupid. But, yeah. Have I never told you that? I've always thought you were vibrant. When we met, before I knew your name, I titled you as 'vibrant boy' because that's what you were. What you are."
"Stan." Kyle repeats. And suddenly he's taking off his shirt. Stan feels like it's a breach of privacy, like he should look away. But he doesn't. Like he said, Kyle's the metal his magnetized eyes want. And he's never seen the other without a shirt on, he's wondered what it would be like countless times. He just wasn't expecting right here, right now. Wasn't expecting his prying to work.
Somewhere between Kyle's shirt lifting from his torso to over his head, Stan spits out the word "Wait." But why wait? Kyle's right, he's been nagging him all day about his soulmate mark. So why does he feel like waiting? Why does this feel final?
But Kyle's shirt is gone, and his shivering starts back up again without that final layer of clothing. And most importantly, Stan's eyes are on his soulmate mark. Kyle's soulmate mark. He reads it over and over again, the words not sounding right anymore, the many times he's said it over in his head feeling faint and far off. Kyle's soulmate mark says "He's the most vibrant person in this room."
"I thought it was an insult. I thought maybe it had to do with my personality, like maybe my soulmate saw me right as I was insulting Cartman. But then you said it and I don't know, it felt right. It felt like a compliment, something I suddenly wanted to hear over and over again."
And then it all made sense. Why Stan always had the urge to be near Kyle, to hold him, to protect him, to look at him, Hell even to kiss him, as much as he tried to deny it. That's why his heart rate picks up around him, why a room lights up when Kyle's in it, why Stan's personality lights up when Kyle's near. It all makes sense, it all makes so much sense.
Kyle shivers again, and this time Stan doesn't suppress the urge to hold him. Because he does. He sits up and wraps his arms tightly around him, around his beautiful freckles, around his soulmate mark. His arms wrap around Kyle's bare back and his hands grip onto his shoulders. He brings his face down and rests it against Kyle's shoulder.
"Of course it's a compliment. Vibrant is a good thing. I thought you'd know that, thought you'd love it." Stan admits. Every time he thought of Kyle as vibrant, he thought Kyle would love to be called that. That he would smile and thank anyone who called him that.
Kyle wraps his arms around Stan as well, accepting the warmth and even greedily stealing more of it with the pads of his fingers, settling them between strands of Stan's black hair. "I love it now. Love that it comes from you. When it was anyone else, I hated it. God, it seems so obvious now."
"Kyle." Stan lifts his head off the other's freckled shoulder, eyes gazing into vibrant green. "You're my soulmate."
"Dude." He replies. And it should be funny, a response like that to something with so much significance. But again, neither of them laugh. They just gaze at each other, suddenly never wanting to look away. Or maybe it's not so sudden, because Stan's felt this way for years now. And for a moment he wonders if he'll be able to act on all his urges. He wonders if Kyle will allow him to kiss him.
They talk for a minute more, then decide to get under the covers because it's still snowing outside, and it's cold, and for the first few hours Stan just wants to hold Kyle. He doesn't want to share this information with the world. Not yet. And under the blankets, they fit together like puzzle pieces. Legs intertwined, hands against bare back, hand against cheek. It's comfortable. It's more than that. It's mesmerizing, the feeling. Just like Kyle on the first day they met, just like Kyle every day since then.
Stan reaches up and pulls Kyle's ushanka off again, this time getting no protests as he throws it somewhere behind him. It doesn't matter where it landed, doesn't matter if they'll never find it. Because Kyle's hands are holding him tightly and he never wants to leave this embrace. Is this what it would've felt like the whole time? If he had just given in?
"So." Stan starts. Their faces are mere inches away from each other. It was like they just clicked, suddenly inseparable. Before it was just figuratively, now it's literally. "When you first saw me, all you thought was that you liked the way I looked?"
Kyle laughs, raw and real. And that too is mesmerizing. But that's nothing new. "I judged everyone by appearance. The phrase 'never judge a book by it's cover' went completely ignored by me. I guess you were lucky."
"I was lucky, huh?" Stan smiles. Kyle laughs again, every puff hitting Stan's lips, inching him closer, pulling him in. That primal urge strikes him again, and this time he knows what it means, knows what his heart wants, and doesn't plan on holding back.
He leans the rest of the way forward, connecting his lips with Kyle's. He reciprocates, lightly pushing back against Stan, the hands in his hair tugging softly. Kyle's plump lips are against his and all he can think about is how right it feels, how he should've done this ages ago. His hands migrate down to Kyle's waist and pull him closer.
How did it end like this, Stan doesn't know. All he knows is that it was meant to. It was quite literally written on their hearts. This feeling, this unbridled love he's harbored, it all meant something, it all led to this. And he couldn't have asked for a better outcome, for a better soulmate. Because in his arms he's holding the most vibrant person he's ever met.
When they part, they're both smiling.
"I should've shown you my soulmate mark years ago."