The ocean stretched endlessly before you, soft waves brushing against the shore in a rhythmic hush, as if the sea itself was holding its breath. The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden hues across the sand, the clouds tinged with lavender and pink. The beach was quiet except for the breeze, and the muffled voices of a handful of guests settling into their seats—familiar voices you’d grown up with.

Stan and Wendy sat near the front, her hand resting gently on his, and even Butters had traded his usual bright clothes for something soft and neutral, eyes glimmering with honest emotion. Cartman stood off to the side, arms crossed, muttering about how “cheesy” everything was, but didn’t dare leave — because even he knew today mattered.

And at the center of it all stood Kyle.

He wore a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored, the fabric clean against his sharp frame. His usual curls were tamed, styled neatly but still full of that rich red that caught the dying sunlight like fire. A soft breeze tousled a few strands loose, and when he turned to look at you, his expression melted into something open, rare, and entirely vulnerable.

You walked toward him slowly, the sand shifting beneath your shoes, and his eyes didn’t leave you for a second. There was a quiet reverence to his posture — like you were the only person who had ever mattered.

The ceremony itself was small. Intimate. No long speeches, no traditions stretched thin. Just laughter. A few tears. Kyle’s hands in yours, warm and steady. His vows, though simple, held weight — every word honest, like a page from one of his notebooks.

—“I’ve always been the one who questions everything,” he said, voice low but firm, “but I’ve never once doubted you. Us.”

Your name left his lips like a promise.

And when the sun kissed the horizon and your lips met for the first time as newlyweds, the crowd cheered — Stan whistled, Wendy wiped a tear, Butters clapped too early and too hard, and Cartman gave a slow sarcastic clap that couldn’t quite cover the softness in his eyes.

Later, under lanterns strung between wooden beams, the sky now a blanket of stars, Kyle stood by the cake table with a hesitant smile. You both held the knife together, hands overlapping, and he leaned in close, nose brushing your temple.

—“This is ridiculous,” he whispered, chuckling under his breath. “We just made the most important decision of our lives and now we’re cutting cake like kids at a birthday party.”