Hey y'all! This is my first published South Park story! :D Yeah, it's short and sweet, but I've got something big coming soon! So stay tuned!

Shout-out and BIG THANKS to fellow fanfiction writer Jish and his amazing story "We Need Each Other: Redone" for inspiring this little story. Y'all go check him out after this!

I don't own South Park! All rights go to their respective owners!

Enjoy!

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The first week after Kyle was discharged from the hospital after having back surgery, he was prescribed some temporary post-op medication. We were given about a two-week supply of pills, meant to lessen the post-op soreness of Kyle's back, but they had side effects. The pills helped with the pain, but also made him really tired and neurotic. He'd wake up and groggily take his meds with breakfast, then proceed to cry and complain of headaches off and on for a while, and then he'd fall asleep for a few hours, waking up sometime in the afternoon to have lunch, but he would remain fairly sleepy through dinner. A second dose would be given with dinner, followed by more off and on crying and headaches, the day finally concluding with Kyle calming down and dropping off to sleep at a decent hour, sleeping through the night like a rock. Then we'd do it all over again the next day. It seemed like a never-ending cycle.

It was hard for me to watch my little brother in such pain, but I just had to keep reminding myself that it wouldn't last forever and that I still needed to be there for him as always.

The biggest reminder came about halfway through the second week. I came down to the living room after taking a shower and walked in to see Kyle laying on the floor on his stomach, his face buried in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Undoubtedly he had just taken his meds.

I sat on the couch and chuckled, cracking a half-smile. Honestly, after almost two weeks of dealing with Kyle's medication-induced meltdowns, scenes like this became common and almost comical, especially considering that he was in high school and too old to throw tantrums.

But I knew he needed comforting. He just looked so helpless there on the floor, fresh out of surgery and out of his head from pain pills.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I asked sympathetically. Kyle said nothing, but responded by slowly crawling up onto the couch and into my lap, where he curled up into a ball and continued to cry hysterically. I wrapped my arms around him in a reassuring hug. It was almost like he was four years old again, sick with the flu and needing me to rub his aching tummy. Then he really was my little brother...now he had grown so much. I held him tight (but not too tight out of respect for his back) and loved him as I always had.

Again I asked what was wrong. He sobbed harder, but this time managed three words: "My...back...hurts..."

Although a minute ago I laughed, now my heart broke for him. The pills were messing with his head and he just couldn't control himself. I nuzzled my face into his hair and softly asked, "Do you want me to rub it?"

I felt him nod against my shirt and once again erupt into a fit of tears. I put my hand on his back and slowly, gently began to rub. Up and down, up and down, up and down I went. He was so fragile, so precious...

Gradually, his sobs subsided. I kept on rubbing. He got quieter, and more relaxed...until eventually he was asleep, and the only audible sounds in the room were his soft snores.

As carefully as I could, I carried Kyle up to his room and tucked him under the sheets. I watched his face for a moment, so calm and relaxed and so deep in sleep. Kyle and I have been close since...well, forever! But as we've gotten older, we've rarely gotten to share moments like the one we'd just had. And now that it was over, I'd enjoyed it, but I wanted it back. I miss when Kyle was little, so young and delicate, needing his big sister to comfort him in his most critical moments. Now he is growing into a young man, and I couldn't be more proud of him. And although those close moments we'd had as children were nothing but distant memories, and another one had just come and gone, before I left the room I gently took his hand and held it for a few brief moments.

I let that be enough.