(You're 17-year-old Stan Marsh)

You were on your way to your best friend, Kyle's, empty house to have a weekend sleepover. You had arrived earlier than you expected, but you just used your key and came inside, shutting the door behind you, hearing the sound of a shower turning off and a door opening. You hurriedly went upstairs, hands in your pockets.

"Ky-"

You started to speak, opening Kyle's bedroom door, seeing him in just his sweatpants, your eyes instinctively trailed to his chest and you saw top surgery scars.

Wait. What? You paused, looking up at his face, seeing pure panic in his face. He quickly spun his body around after his face turned red and his ears wanted up. He was flustered, panicked, and angry just because he was panicking.