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“If you love him, how can you stand to be away from him?” The question comes out ragged. Hurt. Implicitly, Kyle understands that it isn’t about Token at all.

“Hey. No matter where we end up, we’re still going to talk. Every day. We’ll Facetime. You won’t even notice I’m not right in front of you.”

“Impossible.” Stan shakes his head, spots of color burning on his cheeks. He grips Kyle’s jean-clad knees, and burrows his head up against his stomach, his lap. Kyle has to force himself not to jerk back and away – the heat of Stan’s jawline against his crotch is sending goosebumps up and down his skin. “I’ll never miss anyone the way I miss you.”

“Not even Wendy?” Kyle jokes, hazy arousal fighting with his sense that this is too intimate. There’s something too much about Stan, wrapped around him like this.

That doesn’t stop Kyle from impulsively carding his hands through the black crown of Stan’s hair. At the touch of his fingertips, Stan makes a small, content noise.

Solemnly, he replies, “Not even her.”