A/N: Okay well. I hope you enjoy this. I'll have more soon. Already working diligently.

I'm a sucker for Kyle you guys. He is bae.

Stark's Pond seemed to lose most of its luster after Kyle left. The once glistening pool was now a dark and uninviting puddle. Even now as the group of teenagers gathered around it, they did not see the appeal anymore. This place was missing a very important component. To imagine Stark's Pond, was to imagine a skinny, red haired boy sitting on the shore, reading or sketching a picture. The image was so clear to everyone: the boy would sit for hours almost every day, enjoying the ambience and serenity that the pond once infatuated. Everyone associated this spot with Kyle Broflovski and without him being there, the place was almost unrecognizable, especially to one person.

Stan Marsh stood in Kyle's once usual spot, waving his phone up to God, desperately wishing he could have service for just a moment. He groaned in frustration as he brought his phone back down and seeing the "No Service" message appear on his screen. He tried again, being so absorbed in trying to make a phone call that he made thousands of times before, that he didn't hear the sloshing footsteps behind him.

"Marsh, come back and join the group. It's cold over here." Craig Tucker pointed over his shoulder at the camp fire that everyone was cuddled around. Stan smiled softly, blue eyes skimming through his friends. There was Clyde, Token, Tweek, Butters, and even Cartman, laughing, smiling, and drinking the beer they still weren't old enough to have. Stan could only respond with a nod before shoving his phone deep into his jeans.

Craig shuffled his feet in the snow, realizing that Stan wasn't following. He was still staring out into the blackness, listening to the water ripple against itself. "You still trying to get up with Broflovski?" Craig asked, burying his hands into coat, groping fingers finding his scratched up lighter and carton of cigs.

"I haven't heard from him in a couple of weeks." Stan replied, accepting one of Craig's cigarettes. He bent down against the newly born flame and inhaled the warmth and relaxing sensation of tobacco. "I think he lost his phone again. I mean, he loses that thing all the time. He's a genius about everything except putting his phone back into his pocket."

Craig grunted and turned towards the pond to exhale an astounding amount of smoke. He's become too familiar with how to take in so much poison. "Luckily, you don't need to know where to keep a cellphone to get into one of those fancy schools in New York." He waited a moment, before turning towards his friend again. "What's it been now? A year? That's not too bad."

"It is if you're us." Stan laughed, "It's like my other half is gone."

"Kenny's too."

Stan's smile faded and he meshed his cancer stick between his fallen lips. Kenny wouldn't come to Stark's Pond anymore. Even with friends. Stan knew that Kenny blamed himself for Kyle's sudden decision to join that academy and move to New York. And he was probably right.

Stan had always been hesitant about Kyle and Kenny becoming a couple. Kenny had a notorious past of having sex with anything with a heartbeat and drinking until he couldn't remember his own name. But, with time and Kyle's regulation, they seemed to work well together and Stan supported his friends. Lord knows they needed it, being branded as a "fag" couple in a redneck town wasn't exactly the biggest honor. Because of this, Kyle had gotten into fights almost every other day. He was too feisty for his own good and wouldn't let a fucker get away with a free insult. Kenny never seemed to care though, he didn't feel as though they were insults. Apparently, being called a fag was a step up from the usual tags he was trademarked with. And whatever bigoted, drunken insult that came spattering out of the neighborhood's mouth, Kenny simply shrugged it off, calling it the "intense truth" and would return to coddling his boyfriend.

But something happened… Stan didn't know all the details, because neither one would talk about it, but somehow Kenny fucked up. The seemingly perfect couple broke up and Kyle left as soon as possible, to what Stan would hope to be bigger and better things. Kenny was left behind in South Park, a ghost of his former self, just drifting through town to relive his past mistakes.

Stan confronted him, only once, and it was a forceful hurricane of emotion and all of his words and blows were gladly accepted by Kenny, who only agreed to Stan's "intense truth". Stan, almost like a saint, felt Kenny's smoldering remorse and slowly became friends with him again. However, he always had some resentment towards him, even though he's sure Kenny hates himself more than he ever could. It was surprising though, when Kyle was wronged or was distraught, he'd usually challenge his demons head on, not run away. So when the day came that Kyle told him he would be leaving, Stan felt part of him rip off and fester on the ground. He had gone everyday seeing Kyle, to nothing.

"You there, Marsh?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, just… thinking." Stan hadn't realized that he was stagnant for a few minutes, even letting his cigarette burn to its end. He flicked the bud into the water and watched as Craig followed suit. He didn't remember when he'd taken up smoking, but he was grateful he had them during times like this when his mind would wandering into memories he didn't exactly want to relive.

"Come on," Craig nodded back to the group again. "We only have a few more days before we start senior year. Let's not waste it being pussies."

Stan laughed before slapping Craig on the back and turning towards the warm flickering light. Another school year without Kyle was going to be hard on him, but he didn't want to be some sulking Goth kid about it and he didn't want to ignore the people who were still here. The two raven haired teens made their way back over to the tree logs, sitting down with the group; Craig beside Tweek, and Stan on the one empty space.

"Were you writing poetry over there, fag?" Cartman asked, pointing his beer at Stan, his eyebrows knitted down and his round face stretched into a cocky smile.

"I was pondering how someone could be so fat." Stan replied quickly, "Pass me those marshmallows, you don't need anymore."

Cartman growled before throwing the bag at his face. Stan fumbled to catch them, a few bouncing from his lap and into the fire. Stan smiled coyly at him before setting the bag down beside him, pulling out a few sugar dusted treats and sticking them to the pointed end of a stick. Once his eyes reverted upwards he saw that all his friends were staring at him softly.

"Uh. What?" Stan asked, checking behind himself to make sure there wasn't a giant guinea pig.

"You okay, man?" Clyde asked, twiddling a small twig into the flames. "You were over there awhile."

"What? Yes, I'm fine guys." Stan waved his hand frantically, trying to remove the awkwardness from the air. Everyone's eyes were still locked on his. With an idea in mind, he quickly stood up and headed towards his truck. "Why don't I play some music?"

Carman burped, tossing his now empty beer bottle into the woods behind them. "No one wants to hear your hippie music."

"I want to," Butters chimed, "Why, when I hear those guitar strings, they make me want to do a little jig!"

"Chriiiiist." Cartman buried his face into his hands, his brunette hair dangling over his hands to help conceal his displeasure at the thought of Butters dancing.

Token started to laugh loudly at seeing Cartman's discontent. He moved closer to the larger boy and stretched his arms over his head. His eyes shifted and a smug smile pushed across his face. "Cartman, don't you want to hear Stan play and Clyde sing?"

"Oh! Hell yes! Let me sing for you, Stan!" Clyde called out, moving from his seat to the one next to Stan's. Stan couldn't help but snicker, remembering that Clyde is completely tone deaf. Cartman also remembered this detail about their overly excited friend, letting out a long and miserable groan. Stan reached into his back seat and pulled out his guitar. He'd started playing when he was around nine years old and had definitely improved since then. He found himself playing some nights at the bars for less than average pay. He didn't mind though, money was money and he had to admit he liked the attention.

When Stan returned to his seat, Clyde was practicing his scales and Tweek was shaking about how if he sang too loudly, the trolls would come and kill them all.

"Any request?" Stan asked, holding the guitar's head, and turning its pegs, making sure it was properly tuned.

"The Hybrid Car song." Cartman mumbled sarcastically, hands still holding up his large face.

Stan smiled, remembering the song, and why he wrote. Remembering first time he lost Kyle and how he was returned to him. He wished that it would happen again, but he didn't foresee any way possible this time. Kyle had left on his own. Stan strummed the familiar strings, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him as the notes started coming together. Maybe… Kyle will come back on his own too? Stan lifted his head towards the sky, drinking in just how many stars you could see from outside the town. For a moment, he realized all the reasons why Kyle loved this place. "You remember the lyrics, Clyde?"

"Not like they were complicated, dude."