South Park Elementary had often screwed Terrance in his quest to perfect the art of science. First, they vastly underfunded various departments that would have aided him in this mission, usually so as to save something asinine as the athletics program or the music department. As if either had benefited man in any really meaningful way, the dolts. Then, they served food that was devoid of any true nutrition, weakening the bodies and therefore the minds of the student populace. They laughed and smiled as they ate the food, but Terrance saw only the rotting away of their teeth as an apt metaphor for the rotting of their brains that was endorsed by the school. Third, the school hired absolute morons as teachers- even the fifth grade teacher, a class that was supposed to match his curiosity up with the material, was a buffoon. She couldn't even speak when confronted with the scientific facts behind emotions, the chemical reactions that guide men and women to and through 'love' and other chemical reactions that humans believe is in some way a product of their own , they had the audacity to almost always disallow him time for his experiments. This was likely due to the fact that his test subjects were still stuck in the fourth grade, though he liked to imagine there was some greater conspiracy against the sciences afoot.

So, as he dealt with his class on Monday, Terrance cursed the school. He would have to wait until lunch to see the impact his experiment had. This obstacle caused agitation which caused agravation which caused, as Mackey put it when Terrance was sent to his office for snapping at a feeble-minded female student who questioned him, an attitude problem. Simpletons, delaying what was needed in the name of right and wrong. Ethical fallacies were not as egregious as logical errors, and the logic of their decisions was nonexistent. So as he ate lunch in the counselor's office as punishment, he decided that when the time came, he would make sure Mackey was a test subject. He might have cured his hoarding problem for now, but Terrance was known to be a somewhat vindictive individual.
So, recess was the last chance Terrance had. Luckily, he had equipped himself for almost any contigency. A directional microphone would allow him to stay at some distance and observe Stan and, probably, Kyle if they had a conversation. Useful for spying, and fairly easy to smuggle into a school when broken up into several parts. Tucked nicely into his backpack and then locker, he could only marvel at the lack of security as he brought the pieces out, assembled the microphone, and walked down the lonely halls with a somewhat large black object that was foreign to a school scene in any sort of decent regularity.

He stepped outside into the violent sun, the rays it produced shooting off snow, playground equipment, and the occasional pair of braces. Bill and Fosse could be seen playing with some sort of doll- yes, they certainly had no issues themselves as they labeled everything else gay- as Terrance stepped out. He would let them be. Besides, they would draw attention. That would be bad.

He scanned the playground quickly. He was a ghost amongst the living when out here, able to pass without a notice most of the time. The girls didn't pay him any heed, not the ones playing their games and not the ones who spent their time refining the most womanly trait of all, gossip. The boys hardly shot him a glance on the best of days, not the ones who were playing their mindless sports and games, nor the ones who used what little brainpower they had to formulate scenarios for them to play out. A man amongst zombies, Terrance was, the only King amongst slaves. He walked briskly to the brick and mortar barrier and hopped over it, deciding it was better this way for when he was done. He would go home and decide what course of action was best, so no need to delay that with the physical journey of the school to stand in the way.

He turned back to the playground and scanned it once more, this time looking for his targets. They were never hard to find, even on a difficult day. Gay or not, they were attached to the hip. Playing games, laughing, sharing each other as friends and as brothers in thgeir own judgments, formulating plans and dissecting their pointless minutia. Terrance had never understood either one of them. Why did people subject themselves to this ritual? Why share what made the heart ache, the soul quake? If one can enjoy happiness on his own terms, why share that with another? Why compromise, risk fights, entangle your life with another? And why couldn't he engender those same feelings in another? Was he not the best, and if so, why did people pass him over and choose others?

What did they see in each other? One was from a middle class family whose father was spending them into the lower-class very slowly. The other lived in security, his father manipulating courts, people, and the system in order to gain the lifeblood of this country in a vast amount, only to be outshined by few others in the county. One was a bona fide athlete, sports star and all that entailed, who worked hard at his craft and was respected by the sheep for his efforts. The other was the best basketball player at a school that didn't field a basketball team. One was a decently intelligent- for a sheep, at least- yet, would never be smart enough to become a scientist or actually help the human race. The other held within his developing brain a glimmer of hope beyond Terrance that there was hope for the future in regards to the young scientists who would one day come to overthrow the world of nature and the so-called Gods of man and the superstitions that had corrupted mankind ethically for untold centuries. They both believed in the same God, their differing religions not being a barrier to their continued friendship, though Terrance could only scoff at any believers. Stan was of German-English ancestry, Kyle of Serbian ancestry. While both tended to be socially liberal, observation had led Terrance to believe one could be deemed a conservative in other senses, the other liberal. Both were emotional, though Stan tended to be sweeter and Kyle angrier. Kyle had started to dislike dogs, Stan loved his dog.
All logical avenues for companionship were not there. So what was there between them? What was between most friends? One day, science would answer this question. Science provides for those who seek it answers and solutions where before mist and obstacles barred progress.

He continued scanning and eventually found their trademark forms slumped against cement stairs on the other side of the building, near the loading docks. Looked like they desired privacy. Terrance aimed his directional microphone, put his headphones on, and listened.

Stan had been acting awfully strange ever since he had fallen in the woods, Kyle thought. It had started Saturday night, when Kyle had called to see how his friend was doing. After stammering and sounding like he was about to ave an asthma attack, Stan had hung up abruptly. Kyle came to see him Sunday in the afternoon after the Marsh family had returned from their Church service, only to find his friend in a strange state of mind. Alone in their room, Stan could hardly make eye contact, speak, or seemingly deal with with Kyle. It had started to really, really piss Kyle off. It was one thing for Stan to be holding secrets, but another for him to do so and make Kyle really, really, really worried about his friend.
It had continued well into the school day. Stan had not been at the bus stop: He had Sharon drive him to school, though from what he heard, he had almost been sobbing, asking his mom to keep him home. Wendy had become concerned when he had started acting really, really funny with her as well, as if when he was with her, there was a large weight weighing his heart down around her. In class, Kyle had caught Stan giving him funny, almost crazy looks. He couldn't seem to remember what Garrison was saying. He could hardly keep still, his left leg drumming a steady, silent beat. He was rubbing his inner thighs and the back of his neck constantly. Even Cartman had gone from making fun of Stan to being concerned. Okay, well, he was still making fun of him, but Cartman went from calling him a pussy to asking if he had been tree raped like in Evil Dead 2. That was how the fat bastard showed concern, so progress.

It had come to a head at lunch, when Stan had decided to basically fuck off out of the cafetria instead of eating. Kyle tracked his friend down in the bathroom, splasing his face with water harshly. When Kyle had swung into view, Stan's eyes became a mixture of emotions that Kyle had never quite seen before. Love, fear, confusion, and something else that Kyle couldn't identify. Kyle was stunned to see his friend's face completely beet red, the knees slighlty buckling, his chest heaving up and down rapidly in a crazy fashion.
"Sta-" Kyle began before Stan cut him off loudly.
"R-R-Recess! A-At r-r-r-recess, we-we'll talk!" Stan croacked quickly, his voice a mix of both despair and an intense form of anxiety. Kyle was taken aback and had no choice but to accept and slowly back away, hurt and confused immensely by his friend. What had Kyle done to Stan to deserve this? It was almost bringing Kyle to tears.
They had been friends for a long time and knew what private place was best for them. Kyle sat and waited impatiently and was rewarded a few minutes into recess with the image of his friend taking small, pensive steps towards him, his eyes unblinking and frozen in a bloodshot visage. He slowly circled down and took his seat as Kyle stood up, one arm on a rail. It was here that Terrance found them.

"Okay dude, what the fuck is going on?" Kyle asked, cutting through the red-tape of friend discussions and getting to the nitty gritty.
"I-I-I don't really know m-myself, K-K-K...I don't know, b-but it happened in the woods." Stan responded, his face pointed downwards. Terrance listened to his voice carefully and was pleased. Without positive affirmation, Stan was more or less in a state of withdrawal regarding Kyle. If Kyle was half the friend Terrance assumed he was, then Kyle would tell his friend everything was okay and he accepted his friend, even if he didn't feel the same way. That would allow Stan, like a junkie, to get his fix. It would also make sure he never got an overdose that would shock this new lifestyle of his out of him. It was perfect.
"Well, tell me something!" Kyle responded angrily. He was not prepared for the response.
"I-I love you. Like, love-love." Stan said with his eyes closed. As the words slithered their way out, Terrance could feel the stress start to fade. Good. Once he could operate normally, it would become normal to feel this way. Normal until Terrance got what he wanted, and normal to the point that without it, he was a wreck.

There was an awfully awkward silence.

"Umm...uhhh...since when?" Kyle asked, his voice caught between many places. A little shock, a little horror, a little embarrassment, and a little bit flattered.
"I-I don't know, but I woke up in the woods after the fall feeling this way. It...it feels like every part of me is afire when you're around, but not in a bad way. I-I can hardly talk, the lump in my throat is so fucking huge. My heart feels like it is forgetting to pump blood. My legs start to feel like they are made of jello. Your voice sends shivers down my spine, and my brain screamed to not wash my right hand when you touched it on Saturday night to see if I was okay. You're just so goddamn beautiful to me that when I look at you, I can hardly stop myself from breaking down and kiss you. A-a-and I don't know why!" Stan blathered, his voice cracking and breaking as he recounted words that must have sounded like something he would have uttered in his nightmares.

A longer awkward silence, then Kyle sighed.
"Stan...you're my best friend." Kyle said softly, his compassion shining through.
"Ky...Kyle, please, don't think I'm asking you to-" Stan pleaded for the chance to end that sentence, but Kyle hand waved him down and Stan's heart was compelled to act on it.
"No dude, uhh, you are asking me to be your, you know, yeah, uhh, you know. And I don't know what brought all this up dude, but as I was saying, you're still my best friend. You've been to hell and back for me, and I'd do the same for you too. But I'm not gay, like, at all." Kyle said, trying to sound friendly but nervousness pervaded his small speech.
"K-Kyle, what do I do about Wendy?" Stan asked, his voice pitching high. He sounded like he was almost in tears.
"Well, what happened earlier?
"S-she wanted to talk to me about this new outfit she bought, since y-you know how girls are about that s-stuff, and I couldn't help myself and I was imagining you doing it or saying it instead. I got so flustered that I got angry and we got into a fight. B-but Kyle, the worst part is, I used to find her cute-"
"Yeah, I remember you just staring at her across the cafeteria and walking into walls and shit."
"-But I don't anymore. At all. I don't find any of the other girls attractive either. And none of the other guys. Just y-you." Stan said, his voice returning to normal as his brain alligned his emotions once more.
"Really? Heh, tell the girls what you find good looking about me. I think my nose turns them off."
"Well, your nose turns me-"
"Okay, no, none of that." Kyle cut in quickly, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence."S-sorry, couldn't help it. But you do have a beautiful nose. And face. And hair. And arms. And bu-"
"No. Stan, no. None of that."
Silence for a moment. Terrance strained to hear.
"I can...you know what, dude? I can accept this. I mean, I'm not gay or anything and I don't feel the same way, but this really seems to be a real thing for you. And I still owe you for tricking Cartman into giving me a kidney. So here is what I want you to do. Feel for me how you do, but transfer that, act it out or whatever, on Wendy for now. Pretend I'm her or some shit. Meanwhile, we'll find some way for your...very expressive...emotions to become more manageable, and then you can tell everyone." Kyle said with an air or serenity. He wanted to calm his friend down. Fuck that, he needed to calm his friend down or else Stan was going to go batshit insane.
Terrance heard a rustle of clothing for a few seconds. A likely hug.

"This...is...one...tight...hug...off...off, Stan...OFF. STAN." Kyle narrated events as he then seemingly clawed Stan off.
"S-sorry, I'm, uhh...still getting used to not being completely insane when I stare into your eternally hazel eyes."
"Yes. Now go tell Wendy about her ocean blue eyes and how you want to swim in them or some shit, dude."
And with that, Stan wandered off and Terrance took the headset off and bent down below the brick and mortar wall.
It had gone as he imagined. This strong attraction to Kyle would become a normal part of Stan's life, and something that would need more and more positive affirmation. If the plan Kyle had was to permanently transfer these feelings to Wendy, it would work for a while, Stan becoming the dream boyfriend for her. But the feelings had a name, a gender, a person attahced, and no amount of willpower or belief would stop it for long. From what he heard, Stan and Kyle had about two weeks until they would go public with Stan's newfound sexuality.
But that was officially old news, for the moment. He had science to do back at the lab, and so he started sprinting in a straight line across woods and intersections antnot towards the lab.

Kyle was not yet done, however. He watched Stan eventually go back to the playground, get on his knees, and seemingly give one of the more intense and passionate speeches in the history of puppy love. Wendy went from looking upset, to shocked, to blown away and finally overjoyed, her hands on her mouth as she then warmly embraced her beau. The girls around her either giggled or, collectively, went 'aww'. The boys seemingly didn't care, though there were some hushed whispers. Birds flew overhead, the sun shined, and all other sorts of gay crap that didn't concern Kyle. Too bad he hadn't paid attention to that epic speech, for he couldn't tell you about line by line. He could probably take a stab in the dark as to the content, though- he was sure it was based off of what Stan had just said to him.
And that was troubling. As happy as they looked in each other's arms, Kyle knew that it would come to a sad, crashing end for both of them. He wasn't worried about Wendy. If everything else failed, he had always respected her and he did think she was cute. If she liked him, well, he wouldn't say no. But Stan...would be the first openly gay boy and would be the target of cruel pranks. And the damndest thing was, Kyle wasn't buying that this was natural for a second.

Could it be an act? Doubtful. Stan wouldn't do this, nor could he. And why would he even want to? This would destroy his social life.
Dare or a prank? Not likely. This seemed too intense.
It had to have been something that happened to him in the woods when Sparky had went missing, and it had to have been done without his knowledge. He said he had lost consciousness, but how? Stan's face had been scratched to all hell, but there hadn't been any head trauma. Nor did the X-ray reveal any broken bones. That decline was a steep one though. If he had fallen, wouldn't he have broken something? And wouldn't he have had to have some sort of indication of even a bump on his head to say he was knocked out?
He had nothing. Asthma attack? He would have died, plus there wasn't anything in the area that he was allergic to, which was caused his attacks. Plus, he had been there last time when he found Sparky-

Wait.
Sparky got away again and ran to the same place again? Kyle remembered Stan getting chewed out about Sparky getting loose. Wouldn't that have meant a second escape so soon after the first was unlikely. Even more unlikely was the dog going to the same place.
None of this added up. Nothing bad happened the first time, yet during the second unlikely event, the new Stan happened. He shouldn't have been knocked out, but he had been.
The pieces started coming together as Kyle tapped his hand nerv ously against the wall at the corner of the building, leaning on it as he looked at Stan and Wendy. They looked so amazingly happy, but Kyle was soured by the knowledge that Stan was imagining...he was doing what he needed to. But this was not him.
He was not knocked out naturally. It had to have been done artificially. The lack of trauma...some sort of sedative. No signs of a struggle, so it was a surprise. Long range? Some sort of tranquilizer dart? The face lacerations...maybe from being dragged on the ground along the hidden path the paramedics had come through to save Stan?
So it was meant to look like he was knocked out. That means something was done that needed to be hidden. That made Kyle think it very likely that this whole new Stan was artificial. His wallet- Kyle knew it. It had so many pictures, yet only his was there when they found him. Rest were missing. Removed? That wasn't an important detail then, but now- he needed that wallet! There might be fingerprints on it.
"Stan! I need to talk!" Kyle yelled over the playground. Stan's face shot up from its previous home in Wendy's arms and locked onto Kyle's. He gave Wendy a quick kiss and jogged over. Good move on his part, as she was so absolutely stunned by all of this that she had no time to process what happened next. He only threw up once he got to Kyle, so an improvement(and luckily, Kyle dodged it like it was a Hydooken or whatever from Street Fighter 2).

That was when Kyle's hands shot into Stan's pants at about two miles above the speed of sexy. Stan seemingly jumped into the air and did a double take, his waist jerking in reflex.
"I'm jyst here for your wallet, don't get too excited." Kyle nearly chuckled as he fished out his friend's wallet. He then turned and jumped over the brick and mortar wall. Like Terrance, he too had science to accomplish.
And there was Stan, momentarily stunned and unable to move. Luckily, Wendy launched herself on him.
"Hey! What was that about?" She said with a smile, he heart still racing along. Man, that speech was incredible! She considered herself a better person for hearing it, and felt sorry for everyone who had not heard it. She would have to explain it, but it would be like a mute person telling you about the voice of God. Much is lost in translation.
"Nothing, K- Wendy, uhh, love. Just Kyle being weird." Stan said as his knees gave away to her momentum. They tumbled together, a beautiful image to those who knew the beauty of puppy love.
Though it was somewhat rare that the boyfriend was picturing a lanky male jew with a ginger afro and a wicked nose instead of his girlfriend.