A Letter From Stan

by Llama-Egg

"I've only got seven days," Those were the words that Stan feared most after speaking to his Super Best Friend for the first time in a year. Startlingly, it seemed he only had a week before Kyle was gone for good; there would be no avoiding death this time, and there would be no last minute hero to save the day.

1. Day 8

WARNINGS:

SLOW/ INFREQUENT UPDATES! I have a nasty habit of writing every other chapter except for the current one.
This is written as a FRIENDSHIP FIC, so do not expect random make out scenes, or hot and steamy sex sessions. But their friendship is pretty gay anyway. #Bromance
Foul language. Duh.
Violence. To be expected.
Sexual content? Kenny's in here, that should be a given.
You may or may not get whiplash caused by Stan's erratic mood swings. Please don't sue me if you do.

It should probably be noted that although this is technically a 'sad' story, it's also humour (100% doom and gloom tends to get me murdered) so don't be surprised when the mood is lighter than it probably should be. Also, there is a parodying 'side story' which should become painfully obvious by the third chapter, if not sooner. But seriously, as sweetness and puppies and rainbows as it may get, it is still a sad story; do not expect a happy ending. Hope for the best, and expect the worst.

Don't hesitate to drop in a review, even if it's just to express your distaste for the colour of the sky I painted in the story. So, yeah. I HOPE YOU ENJOY READING THIS!

South Park © Trey Parker & Matt Stone

---

I never thought that I'd find myself here so soon. We were always together, and I guess I always assumed that we would continue like that forever, living a dream we didn't want to ever wake up from.

It was naive and childish of us to think like that, but at the same time I still, now, would love to relish in the silly fantasy that we'd never leave the other. But you did leave, and now I have no clue where to go on from here.

You were always my motivation and inspiration, without you I'd probably be kicked out from home on the side of the street begging for money from people who passed by for money that I'd claim was for food, but waste it on drugs.

...I guess what I'm trying to say is that you were my everything, and then, suddenly...

you just left.

-.-.-.-

"Megan West!" Kenny finally announced, beaming with pride. "Definitely Megan West from North Park!" Suddenly his smile faded just as quickly as it had come, replaced with a look of uncertainty. "Maybe it was Alice Chalice from that time in Denver..."

"Or maybe it was with Butters, Kinny." Cartman grumbled lowly, tearing apart his muffin in irritation. "No one really gives a fuck." I briefly wondered why he hadn't bothered eating his food, but cut the thought quickly as an amused smile crossed my lips. Cartman had been set on a strict diet, and even his muffin was filled with tasteless things good for his health. Not that it would help, of course.

Butters nervously fiddled with his fingers, unsure of where to look. "Eric, Kenny and I didn't have sex; my parents would be awful sore if we did." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "They'd be awful sore if I had sex with anybody."

"Well that's fine, because no one would want to have sex with someone the likes of you, Butters." Craig told him dryly, taking a long swig from his can of soda, ignoring the innocent pout on the blonde's face. "If it's any consolation, if you and Cartman were the last boys on the Earth with a handful or so of girls, you'd definitely be first pick of who to reproduce with."

Butters, bless his cotton socks, beamed himself, much like Kenny did earlier. "Why, that's awful nice of you to say, Craig! My parents can't possibly ground me since I'm not the last choice." Still smiling he took a bite from his Hello Kitty cookies.

"Samantha Lail!" Kenny smacked his hand on the table forcefully, and every student in the cafeteria turned their eyes onto him in curiosity. Oh Jesus... "I definitely lost my virginity to Samantha Lail back in seventh grade! If she's as hot as she was back then, I'd definitely fuck her again!" Again, doubt crossed his eyes, "Although I'm sure I lost it a lot earlier than year seven..."

Cartman snorted, pushing his uneaten tray of food away from him, clearly unimpressed. "You'd fuck anyone, Kinny. It's disgusting how easily you'd trust yer cock in the hands of filthy hippy wimin." The bed-headed blonde simply sighed in content, probably imagining some sick sexual fantasy. I pushed away my own tray of food, having lost my appetite.

"What about you, Stanley?" Startled, I turned to face the voice to my side, smiling uneasily at the fact that I had actually been brought into such a stupid topic. "You haven't spoken all lunch, and I was just wondering who your first was?" Did he really have to say it like that? There was a new kid at school and he creeped me out to no end.

But before I could open my mouth to reply, Cartman answered for me. "Jesus, everyone knows that he and the Jew were fuck buddies." I bit my tongue harshly, not wanting to get so worked up over a stupid lie, settling for glaring at the fat fucker, angry that he brought up Kyle. "That's what finally ended your homo relationship, isn't is Stan?"

"Wendy Testaburger." I finally managed to spit out, almost harshly, to the new kid. "Wendy was my first." It was on a warm Summer night, and Wendy and I had been going steady for almost a year. We were both at her house, allocated partners for an upcoming assignment, and since both of her parents were out we got a little frisky, and didn't stop when we probably should have.

The kid nodded slowly, deciding that it seemed suitable. "Ahh. My first was my childhood friend, Sammy Newoy. Kind of awkward, but a very fulfilling experience." Again he looked at me with an odd expression, and as inconspicuously as possible, I inched away from him. I doubted that Sammy Newoy was a girl...

"Who took Wendy's virginity?" Of course it was Clyde who asked this question, no longer busy with eating his tacos. Everyone at the table looked at him, and I sighed inwardly. "What? Both Token and Stan lost their virginity to her. No one's really told me who took hers." On multiple occasions we had tried to explain it to Clyde. He couldn't seem to grasp the simple answer, and kept asking questions.

"Maybe because you're an r-tard, Donovan." Craig spoke loudly. "The fact that you call yourself 'The Donoman' is proof of that."

Offended, the brunette stood from his seat. "I'm not an r-tard! You're the r-tard, r-tard!"

I sighed tiredly, making a mental note to thank Craig for his distraction; I doubted that I had the ability to deal with Clyde's stupidity. I lay my head in my arms, annoyed that my mediocre day had yet to get better. My body tensed as a hand rubbed my back gently, but I didn't move to confront the protagonist, since it was obviously the new kid who creeped me the hell out. I wanted to avoid talking to him at all costs, maybe he would take the hint that I didn't like him in any way, shape, or form.

"Are you alright Stanley?" He asked me instead and I inwardly groaned; there goes that idea. 'Don't fucking touch me!' I wanted to yell at him, but I nodded stiffly, shuddering uncomfortably when he placed his other hand on my thigh, a little too close to my crotch. 'Stop fucking touching me!' "If you ever want to talk to somebody, I want you to know that I'll always try to help the best I can, alright?"

'NO! NO! NO!' "Yes."

"Well alrighty then! I have a feeling that our friendship will be coming a whole lot more, pretty soon! I've always wanted a best friend like you!" He sounded so happy and full of joy, like there was nothing that could bring down his excellent mood. I wanted to stab him in the throat with the plastic knife Cartman was using to try and slit his own wrist.

It was the bell that saved both Cartman and I from the conversations around us, and the group of us all stood to find our classes. I drifted off from most of the group, walking alongside Butters who was in my next class. "Are you alright Stan?" He asked in a cheerily perky mood, his pale blue-green eyes bright with excitement but saddened with worry.

"Yeah," I sighed, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "All things considered I'm alright, Butters. It's just one of those days, I guess." It wasn't something I liked to talk about to anyone, but somehow Butters, despite being a massive faggy melvin, was easy to confide to. He'd listen to what you had to say without interrupting, and he'd be so optimistic with how it could all get better, it was difficult to stay upset for long. Well, until he left at least, and then you re-realize how much of a faggy melvin he is and that his advice was pretty much too optimistic to actually work. But still... "It just doesn't seem like it's been a year..."

"I know what you mean; it is all a little frightening." He looked genuinely upset at the fact that I was having an off day. "If it'll make you feel any better we're throwing a party at my house tonight, since it's our last day ever of school."

"Your parents are letting you throw a party?" I asked, taken aback. I had actually forgotten that it was our last day of school, but decided not to voice that fact.

"Ahh, well... Not exactly, Stan. E-Eric found out that my parents weren't going to be home over the weekend, and, uh..." He rubbed his hands together fiercely at the look I gave him. "W-well, he promised my parents wouldn't find out, but... I don't really wanna be the kid who put a stop to our graduation party. As long as there's no alcohol, r-right?"

"Sure Butters..." Yes it's true; he's really stupid enough to think that there wasn't going to be alcohol at a graduation party, of all things. I took a seat at my usual desk, with my short 'friend' sitting to my side. We still had a minute or two before our teacher would put down her book and tell us all to shut up. "Are you sure you want it at your house, though? If you say no, there are plenty of other houses to have it. Like Cartman's own house, for example."

The small boy flushed, biting his lip nervously. "Ahh, ya see Stan, I really can't back out of this. Eric isn't a very nice person when he doesn't want to be."

I sighed loudly, wishing that I could have been talking to someone more interesting... Someone like- "Is he still giving you trouble, Butters? If he is, Kenny and I can sort him out for you."

"You mean with violence?!" He looked horrified, eyes wider than the set of plates my father bought when he thought he was turning into a giant praying mantis.

"Randy!" My mother had shouted in mortification as my father dragged a massive plate across the living room floor. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"You wouldn't understand, Sharon!" Dad replied stubbornly, continuing on into the kitchen. "No one understands! The chick at the china-ware house looked at me like I was crazy! I'm not crazy, Sharon! Turning into a giant praying mantis is the norm in every man's life!"

"Randy, you've taken this entire thing too far! Wh-what are you doing now, Randy?!" Stunned, the woman just stood there as her husband walked back outside to latch his hands around a large bag of insect pellets. My mother and I decided that it would be best if we didn't tell him that the bag wouldn't even fit through the door..

Dad scoffed, and began to push and pull and do whatever he could to get the giant bag to move from its spot in the snow. It didn't move an inch. "Are you going to have this same attitude when I actually am a giant praying mantis? For Christ's sake, Sharon! Would it kill you to help me in my time of need?! Tell her Stanley; you understand what your old man's going through."

"I don't want to be any part of this, dad." I dead-panned, but was forced to respond when he glowered at me. "You're not turning into an insect, dad."

He scoffed, and finally stopped trying to drag the reluctant bag of insect food, instead grabbing a second giant plate, the same size as the first one he rolled into the house. "You're as blind-sighted as your mother, Stan. It breaks your heart to imagine that I'll never be the same again." His eyes began to well up and he deserted the plate, instead rushing to give me a massive, wet hug, stroking the back of my head tenderly. "I'm still your father, Stanley," He sobbed dramatically; "I'm still your father!" He broke away from me, and threw himself onto the snowy outside ground. "Oh no! It's happening! I'm changing!" He shook his body violently, and made strange gagging sounds.

Mum and I walked away before his 'transformation' was complete. Congratulations dad. You're finally a full-fledge retard.

"No, I mean we'll have a heart to heart with him, since he's a very understanding, caring person who tries his hardest to please people." I spoke sarcastically, barely managing to stop myself from banging my head against the table repeatedly.

Before he could reply with some faggy whole-hearted answer, the teacher was already standing up the front with a long meter ruler in her grasp, tapping it loudly on the blackboard. "Sit down and shut up, guys." She liked to pretend to be a strict teacher, although she was quite fun, and, for some reason, that really captured every students attention, "I have a few enjoyable things organized for the last lesson we will ever have together, such as painting each other's nails and styling our own hair." Of course she was speaking sarcastically; she'd write a few 'inspirational' quotes on the board and let us do whatever the hell we wanted. "Firstly though, we'll do a roll-check. Anybody not here?" Her eyes scanned the classroom, and she sighed as she set the ruler on her desk. I watched as she seemed to be counting down for something. What was she waiting for?

The door burst open, and a dishevelled looking teen was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily in exhaustion like he had just run a marathon. "Sorry I'm late, miss." He panted a reply with flushed cheeks. My frown deepened; that was probably the nineteenth time that week he had been late to a class. Each time the teacher would smile easily, and brush it aside as nothing. But it wasn't nothing. This particular student was never usually late for class, but recently he would be turning up half way through the lesson, or leaving fifteen minutes early.

It was puzzling.

Not that I cared, of course.

"Have you noticed that Kyle Broflovski has been late to almost every class this past month, Stan?" Butters asked in a low voice, leaning into my side in fear that the teacher would catch him out although she was busy talking quietly to the redheaded Jew.

"Nope." I lied casually, using my finger to doodle over the desk. "I didn't notice it at all until you mentioned it just now. But I don't care enough to wonder why it is."

The blonde hummed to himself in thought, before crying out loudly, much like Tweek Tweak would, "OH BAJEEZUS! THERE MUST AN ALIEN PARASITE STUCK IN HIS BRAIN, STAN!" Everyone turned to him, and I covered my face with both of my hands, mortified by his outburst. "W-WE GOTTA HELP KYLE BEFORE IT TAKES OVER HIS ENTIRE BRAIN, AND THEN FORCES HIM TO KILL US ALL WITH HIS LASER EYES!"

"Aww, no Butters. You've got it all wrong, there's no alien parasite in my brain." I couldn't see him, but Kyle sounded amused. "If there was, I'd be forced to kill you for revealing the fact that I was the body to an alien host, and then erase everyone's memory of your existence."

"You're right, Kyle!" I sunk deeper into my chair uncomfortably, although Butters sounded mighty pleased. "Isn't it a relief to know that your best friend isn't going to kill us all, Stan?"

I didn't answer, or even dare to uncover my face. The tension in the air rose, and I could sense that every silent member in the class room was listening in on the conversation. I could have killed Butters at that moment; I didn't care for any consequences. Butters just needed to die. It had been a year since Kyle and I last spoke, and as far as I'm concerned, it had been over a year since we were any form of friends. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone except for Butters, it seemed. It was a long, awkward silence, and everyone seemed to be waiting for my answer, Butters even nudged me in the side and watched me as I cringed.

"Sorry, I forgot," Kyle seemed to curse apologetically, breaking the tension, "I created this weird device the other day, and I used Stan as a test subject. Basically, just the mention of lasers and alien parasites in the same sentence sends him into overdrive, and he loses his voice and whatnot for a while. Regulation sentence is 'Stan, your dad got a squirrel this morning and he's trying to train it to enter a dog show'."

"What?" Stunned, I finally looked at my ex friend who shrugged with a 'what can you do?' expression. "God damn it."

"Gee Kyle, that's pretty neat. Could you maybe get me a device like that?" By that time the chatter amongst students had started up again, as the teacher wrote a few words on the board.

I watched as the corner of Kyle's mouth pulled up into a one-sided smile. "Sorry dude, still working out the kinks. Seeing as this experiment was a success, I'm going to try and alter it to make him forgive me for being a total ass." His green eyes appeared to waver as they searched my own.

"I don't think there's ever going to be a device advanced enough, or with enough power to make that happen." I said slowly, not moving my eyes from his until he got the sincerity of my words. "So go fuck yourself."

He waved his hand dismissively, not caring too much for the insult I threw at him, although he looked a bit upset. "Maybe later, but Stan... We really need to talk about what happened. I am so sorry, but if you would just let me explain-"

"No." I dead-panned, refusing to show emotion as Butters glanced between the two of us in confusion. "I'm pretty certain that a year is too long to wait to apologize for being the world's greatest douche."

"A week from today would be too long to wait to apologize, Stan, but you don't understand! I get it, you hate me for what I did, and you think I'm the worst friend ever, and I am! But just let me explain why!"

Butters raised his hand nervously, and took the glare I directed at him as permission to speak, "Did you two seriously have gay butt sex with each other, and was it so unsatisfying that it made things so awkward between you guys that you both had to cancel your friendship? I always thought Cartman was lying, and that you two were still the best of friends, but now I'm not so sure..."

"We didn't ever have sex, Butters." I snapped irritated, "We didn't ever kiss, or ever confess to having non-existent gay feelings for each other."

Dumbfounded, Kyle stared blankly in disbelief of the blonde's words, before shaking his head and looking at me pathetically. "I made a massive mistake, Stan, and I really want to take it all back."

"And I want to take back 17 years of friendship, asshole!" I shouted loudly, standing up from my seat, fuming. "But no matter how hard I wish, those 17 wasted years are still there!"

Silence. There was not a sound echoing in the classroom. "I... I see." He was blinking a lot, and staring intently at the wall. I didn't feel an ounce of regret at that moment, I was actually glad at the humiliation he must have felt at the time, and wished that Cartman could have been there to witness. "I wish that you didn't have to feel that way, Stan."

"Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski." The teacher finally called, snapping out of her stunned interest. "In the hall with your bags, both of you." Huffing, I picked up my bag, and followed the red head out into the hall, barely catching the words on the board. Remember your past, but don't live in it. Accept it, and move on.

We stood silently outside the room for a few moments, me quietly fuming and Kyle, quietly fretting. "You didn't mean what you said, did you Stan?" I ignored him, biting down on my tongue until I tasted blood. "Would you ever forgive me? ...I'm sorry."

"Too late, Ky." I said, in a softer tone this time, uncrossing my arms. Even though I hated him for what he did, there was still a part of me that hated to see him like this. I hated that part of me.

He shook his head violently, refusing to accept what I foolishly believed to be the truth. "No it's not Stan, no it's not! You of all people should understand that!"

"Me of all people? Dude, we were best friends, and then suddenly you started treating me like some faceless person in the crowd. It fucking hurt, especially whenever I tried talking to you, and you'd just look at me blankly, like you'd never met me before and I was wasting your valuable time."

"Let me explain, please. It doesn't matter if you don't forgive me, I just need you to understand why-"

"No." I cut him of harshly, angry again. "I don't want your excuses, Kyle."

I turned from him and just walked away, thinking that he didn't deserve forgiveness. But the fact is that if I had have just looked back I would have seen the tears streaming down his too-pale cheeks, the blood trickling from his nose and the way he'd grimace pathetically, clutching his chest in pain. And after seeing that, I would have turned around and pleaded for forgiveness from him. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, but I, at the time, refused to believe it.

He had hurt me, and I wanted to hurt him back so that he could experience the pain he had put me through.

Kyle was grinning to himself, although I didn't know why, as he wrote down on a piece of paper what I assumed to be notes for our project. He couldn't seriously find this work fun, could he? All we were doing was a stupid assignment on the background of a famous person in history.

There were several large books around us, opened on a page with information about our selected person, and about forty crumbled papers strewn around my room from our little war earlier in the day. Our jackets and hats were tossed onto my unmade bed and my new laptop was opened onto Skype, although it was signed in as Do Not Disturb.

And yet, still Kyle sat with a massive grin, not bothering to let me in on what was so amusing. A few minutes earlier we had been talking as we usually did, and idly doing our homework as we spoke, until his face suddenly lit up with what might have been amused realization, and he promptly began to furiously write things down.

I stared at him as he picked up a new page of paper, his first one having been used up completely. It was three sheets in, before his sparkling green eyes turned to me. "Do I have to do everything, Stan?" He taunted, and I stuck out my tongue at him. "This assignment has to be co-written, and it's disappointing to think that you've barely written a thing!"

"Forgive me," I rolled my eyes, bowing a little with mock respect, "I keep forgetting that you're captain of the butt pirates."

"You want help?" Kyle hinted eagerly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because I'm pretty damn set on this whole assignment." I raised a brow, urging the smartass to continue. "There are a few important things you need to firstly remember; Jeremy Clopton worked part time at the brothel in the 1600s, dressed as a woman so he could earn extra cash; he once fought a massive dragon, which only the English lacking indigenous people saw, and later painted on cave walls; he had sex with a knight's horse for a silver coin."

I stared at him blankly although the corners of my mouth threatened to twitch upwards into a smile. "You forgot that his wife was eaten by the kraken. The last words she ever heard were said by her lunatic husband, 'RELEASE THE KRAKEN!."

Kyle tackled me to the ground, and we both burst into laughter. "The Kraken hath no mercy for the mere mortals!" He cried boldly, keeping me pinned beneath him.

"Wouldeth a mortal hath the power to be able to releaseth the mighty Kraken, thou strumpet?!"

"I guess not."

Smirking evilly, I grabbed at his wrists and forced him onto his back so that I was the one pinning him. "I doth hath thee under thine control, prepare, evil Kraken, to be annihilated..eth... by thine own hands that touchethed my lovers supple breasts, how dare thee, evil creature! How dare thee kill thine bride!"

Kyle groaned, "The Kraken hath been defeated by thou sucky speech!"

I smirked, lowering my head so we were practically nose to nose, and my friend raised a brow in amusement, "Nay, the Kraken hath only been woundethed by thine words, but shall greet death by thine bareth hands!"

"You really suck at this Stanley, but continue; the Kraken is merely amused at the fact that you believe you can use your puny human hands to destroy him."

"Ahh, refuse thy repulsive words. Thine shall use but a mightyeth and powerfuleth sword!" I stretched an arm out, grasping for something, and lent back to hold it up triumphantly. "Behold! Excalibur!"

"Oh wow." Kyle laughed. "You killed the Kraken with a measly Earth pencil."

"Mock thine all thou wanteth, this 'measly...eth... Earth pencil' hath magical properties, granth the nameth Excalibur!" Holding the tip of the pencil just above his heart, I bent down nose to nose again. "Any last words, Kraken?"

"St-Stanley! Kyle!" My mother shrieked, and I turned my head to see her dropping a box in the door way, her face void of any colour. "What the hell are you two doing?!"

I glanced down at Kyle again, and he glanced up at me, our noses touching, before we turned to my horrified mother again, confused. "We're doing homework, mum. I was just about to defeat the mighty Kraken, and Kyle was about to have his ass handed to him."

Mum covered her eyes, and took a few steps back until she was up against the wall. "Uh... Uh... Sorry to interrupt, boys. Um, Stanley your parcel has arrived. Let's not tell your father about this, alright?"

I finally leaned away from Kyle, still holding to pencil gently to his chest. "Why can't dad know?" Didn't mum tell him that I was getting a few things for my old dog Sparky? I glanced at Kyle, confused, silently asking him if he had any idea what the hell was going on, and he shrugged in reply.

She removed her hands from her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "I'll leave you boys alone, sorry for disrupting. I'll, uh, I'm going out for a little while."

"Bye Mrs Marsh!" Kyle grinned politely, and my mother practically sprinted back down the stairs. "...Maybe she's pregnant and really needed to puke, but, at the same time wanted to admire how grown up her baby boy was."

"Maybe... But don't say that! I don't want to have a little brother or sister at this age. That's just gross to think my parents still have sex." I shuddered in disgust, trying to erase the awful image in my head.

"Aww!" Kyle cooed cutely, battering his eyelids playfully, "has the widdle Stanley-Wanley had his widdle mindey-windey scarred for lifey-wifey?"

I huffed, glaring at him from my position atop of him. "Don't forget who still wields Excalibur, strumpet."

"Dude, the Kraken has already destroyed everything you loved, and anyone you've ever known and cared for. You're doomed to spend eternity alone in the ruins with Cartman."

"Aw..." I pouted at my Jewish friend, removing 'Excalibur' from its place over his heart, and staring at it dejectedly. "You mean I let my sexy wife get killed for nothing?"

"Well, you did get to say 'Release the Kraken!' and have the Kraken actually released. I think that that's always a bonus." He pointed out, before grinning again. "But the Kraken is always looking for a new bride, if you're interested." He sat up, and I struggled not to fall as I fell from his hips to his lap.

"You expect me to marry the Kraken, Ky?" I raised a brow, laughing a little. "But what could I give him?"

He grinned mischievously, leaning to the side a little as he folded a blank sheet of paper into a neat paper hat. "If you were his mating partner, your children would be so incredibly ugly people would commit suicide just by looking at them." He caught my withering look and laughed, using a pencil to write on the hat before sticking it on my head roughly. "What? Everyone knows that majorly ugly children are the product of an ugly parent and a sexy parent, that's why you don't see it happen these days! Of course, compared to the Kraken you're obviously the ugly one..." He coughed, and started laughing when I punched him roughly in the arm.

"Kyle!" Huffing, I took of the paper hat from my head, and stared at it for a while. "'K's Bitch'?"

My Jewish friend nodded eagerly, snatching it from my grasp to put back on my head. "Kraken's Bitch, but it also works as Kyle's Bitch. Just so you remember who owns your ass when you're famous."

"Well then, in that case..." I quickly picked up a blank sheet of paper from the ground and tried to remember how to fold it to make a hat... In half, then half again... Maybe turn the corners in a centimeter or two... Then completely rip this edge off... Rip off the other side to make it even... Scrunch the paper up... Cry dramatically... I fail at life... Realize that I could just make Kyle do it for me... Threaten to attack his tickle spot... Laugh evilly as he immediately wields to my command... Have several paper balls thrown at my face... Attack the Jew... Have my ass handed to me... Threaten to destroy the Bitch hat... Kyle cries... Am I merciful enough to spare him... Slap him with the Bitch hat... Lead him to the dungeon... Kyle attacks me from behind... Holy shit when did he get good at pins... All I wanted was a God damn hat... Really am his bitch... "Fuck."

"I thought you knew better than that, Stan." Kyle sighed dramatically, picking up the dropped hat he made for me, and fixing it up so that it had his name on it, instead of just the K. "Didn't think that I'd have to prove how much of my bitch you really are. I'm not sharing my Stanley with any dark Lord."

I huffed, grumbling as he put the hat back on my head. "Don't be surprised when I lace your food with poison, Kyle. I'll serve you your breakfast, and then stand to the side as you take your first bite. 'Hmm, this tastes slightly different than usual' you'll say, and then I'll reply with 'Yeah master, I put in a new ingredient. It's called HAHA! REVENGE IS SERVED BUTT PIRATE!' and then your face will turn blue and you'll die... And then I'll be alone again since everyone was killed by the Kraken... I'll cry because I killed my bestest friend ever... For days on end I'll stare blankly at the hat, heartbroken... Then I'll be so alone, and driven to insanity, I'll be forced to - Kyle?!"

He had pulled me to my feet and wrapped his thin arms around me in a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Confused, I returned the hug. Even though I could barely breathe, and it almost seemed like Kyle was crying, it was kinda nice.

"Don't talk like that, Stan." He said as he finally pulled away, allowing me to breathe. "If I died, you'd never be alone, even if you did kill me in a spur of the moment revenge. I'd be on the other side, and I'd bring back those who meant a lot to you, even your sexy wife who was killed first, so that you'd always have someone there. A-and I'd be there too." He nodded firmly, and I smiled.

"What's going on Kyle? All this is kinda outta the blue." It was the slightly panicked look in his eyes that made me grow weary with worry. "Are you OK...?"

"I... I'm..." I could practically see the thoughts going through his head, although I couldn't see what the thoughts actually were. He was probably contemplating the pros and cons of telling me. "Nothing, nothing. I'm fine Stan, it's just... I love you, probably more than my own brother, and I don't think I let you know that enough."

I laughed, a gave him a hug, ruffling up his hair. "You don't have to tell me that Kyle, I know exactly what you mean. I-"

"Boys!" My dad was panting in the doorway, his face bright red from exhaustion and panic. "Boys, we've gotta go! This whole town is about to blow up! We must go out in live in the forest, and become one with the forest people! C'mon, c'mon let's go!" When he decided that we weren't going to willingly go with him, he grabbed our wrists and dragged us downstairs, and out the front door. "This way boys, this way! Hurry up, we don't have much longer!"

"Jesus Christ, dad! What the hell are you going on about?!"

He stopped abruptly and held my shoulders firmly. "It's a full moon, Stanley! Don't you understand?! We got rid of all the wolves in our area! No wolves on a full moon obviously means that the town's going to blow up!"

Around us, I finally noticed, people were running in circles screaming and crying and smashing cars for no actual reason. 'Think of the children!' someone was shouting loudly, throwing a new born child up into the air. "Jesus Christ!"

"Uhh, excuse me Mr Marsh." Kyle spoke up, watching the baby get caught by Kenny who was running around with his underwear over his purple clothes, cape flying behind him. Did he have any idea how gay he looked? "I know that the town's in jeopardy and all, but Stan and I really need to finish our assignment for school."

"I can't let you back there for that reason alone, but if you're going to risk yourselves to be our inside men..." He handed us a walkie talkie, tears in his eyes. "God speed, my sons. God speed."

Every half hour, my dad would check in with us, asking us how everything was. It wasn't until midnight that Kyle and I decided to fool dad into thinking that the town was burning, and we were caught in flames as the distant echoes of wolf ghosts rattled our senses before we turned the talkie off, and didn't reply to his cries and pleas for the rest of the night.

"I gotta get up pretty early tomorrow," Kyle let me know as we huddled into the bed together, talking softly even though we were the only people in the entire town, "I don't want you to be a cranky shit in the morning, so I won't bother waking you up."

"You're so thoughtful," I laughed breathlessly, grinning at him in the dark, "Going to your mystery place out of town like last week?" He nodded once, his eyes appearing silver from the moon's light. "G'night, Ky."

"Good night Stan."

Those were the final words we exchanged, and when I woke up in the morning I found a letter on my pillow. I was startled when I read the words, but the worst had yet to come. Monday at school I went to see how he was, and question his note, but as soon as I called out his name, he turned to me blankly. "Do I know you?"

---

I was already a little drunk by the time I arrived at Butters' house later that night, flanked by a sober Kenny who hadn't wanted to drink. He was in a worse mood than I, which was strange considering the circumstances. Alcohol at a party filled with lots of pretty, influenced girls who would surely be looking for a good time; he should have been having a field day.

The front door was wide open, allowing us to walk right on in. Everyone in our graduated year was there, plus quite a few plus ones. Everyone was dressed for the carefree occasion, dancing in the living and dining room while those who wanted a drink were in the kitchen pouring a new cup. They all looked smashed already, despite it being barely past 10:30. Well, it had started at 7, I supposed.

Kenny put his hand on my shoulder, grabbing my attention. He looked to be a mixture of upset and stressed. It made no sense that he didn't want to drink himself silly, desperate to get rid of his miserable emotions.

That's what I would have done.

He said that he was going to find someone, saying it was urgent that I spoke to them as soon as humanely possible. He vowed to find me later, either that night or the next day, he didn't really specify. He looked completely serious. I smiled at him little, nodding lightly to let him know that I had heard him.

Kenny was always there for me.

Kenny wanted to soothe my pain.

You could say that Kenny was an attempt at replacing the irreplaceable Kyle Broflovski.

Maybe I could find Wendy. She would have already been there, and tended to be able to get me in a better mood, even though we weren't actually a couple anymore. She tended to know the right things to say, which was probably the reason why I had always I loved her. More than her beauty and looks, her smartness, the way she held herself with such confidence... she could make a man about to jump off the cliff, love life again.

Unfortunately it wasn't Wendy I found, but the new kid. Well, actually, he found me. Of course. He was beaming brightly, and it looked like he was going to hug me tightly and rest his head over my heart. Wait. That's what he did. It was like I was his teddy bear, and he didn't want anyone to take me away. I fucking hated that new kid. Even though he technically wasn't even new; he had arrived halfway through the year, but I couldn't be stuffed remembering his name.

I didn't care enough about his existence to be bothered with it.

He was surprisingly strong, and I was barely able to push him off of me, "What the fuck do you want?" I asked him sourly, annoyed that my previous mission had been brought to a complete fucking halt, "Scratch that, why the fuck do you keep touching me?!"

"You always seem down, Stanley," He pouted at me 'cutely', and I shuddered. I fucking hated my full name enough without him using it like that, so casually, "And a touch of affection is enough to bring any mood up, up, up! Since we're friends, I can't bear to see you so depressed all the time. I want us to be able to tell each other everything! So I'll go first; I wet my bed up until the age of ten." I felt sick, and it was more than just the fact that he had spilled something so... egh. There was a possibility I knew someone who was absolutely disgusted with urine at that age, and would only be able to 'handle' it if it meant the difference between life and death.

Just a possibility though.

Nothing more.

"Stan!" I heard my name being called, and felt their hand on my shoulder before I saw their face. Ah fuck. Of course it had to be him; it was always him, and I was nowhere near drunk enough to be able to deal with him, "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to see me, but it's urgent!"

I rolled my eyes, feeling irritation as I could surely feel the light buzz of the alcohol I had drank before coming here wear off, "Damn right I don't want to see you, Broflovski. So piss off."

"Alright, I get it," he sighed, depressed that he had been denounced to last name basis, "But please let me explain myself. I understand if you still won't forgive me after that, but you at least deserve to know why!"

"Deserve to know why?" I felt my anger rise, and sure enough there were curious onlookers, but I didn't care. I wanted to punch him in the face... his overly pale face. "I deserved to know why a fucking year ago! I deserved to know why before you even fucking disappeared! You left me in the dark with nothing more than some silly little note that gave no fucking explanation!"

He looked like he was about to cry. He looked like a pathetic mess. "Not here, Stan... Please not here... Can we talk outside where it's a little private?" He didn't want anyone else to see him so weak, but he didn't care if I did, I had seen him at his worst more than once, and vice versa. But I didn't want to take it outside, I wanted him to be humiliated, at least I did. But then he pleaded quietly, "Please Stan."

So we walked outside, across the front yard, and trudged across the road where we were a little more distanced from the houses along the street, and most importantly away from the prying eyes and ears. But, just to spite him, I dragged along the new kid who seemed overjoyed that I allowed him to tag along.

"I don't know how to explain this, but-" his eyes caught sight of the teen behind me, and he frowned, "I was kind of hoping for privacy..."

The new kid rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest, "Whatever you say to Stanley can be said in front of me. I, unlike you, am not going to just leave him to fend for himself when he obviously needs support. Besides, you're pretty damn lucky he even agreed to get away from the crowd, so you wouldn't even have to feel the humiliation you deserve. Watch yourself." I could have actually learned to tolerate that kid if he were to keep up that whole protection against the Jew ordeal.

"First of all," Kyle wasn't sure whether to be irritated or mad, so his voice just came out in a 'wtf' tone, "don't call him 'Stanley', he hates that. To you it's Stan. Secondly, do you even know what the hell is going on? This isn't something a little kiddy like you can intervene in; this is between two fully grown people, of whom you're not. The kind of support he needs is the kind that only I can give him. Thirdly, I already know what I do and do not deserve, and don't need some short little brat telling me. I know that I'm lucky for him to even be able to tolerate my existence right now. And finally, what the fuck is wrong with you kid?!" He rolled his eyes, and turned back to me, "Stan-"

"You think that you can just waltz back into Stanley's life like this?" Kyle wasn't lying when he said I hated the new kid using my name, but for that moment I knew that I needed to deal with it, so I didn't even have to say a thing. Maybe I could have even walked away and left them to it, they probably wouldn't have even noticed I was gone. "You left him, and you missed your chance of forgiveness, or even the possibility of knowing him like I do. Back the fuck off, or I'll make you."

Kyle sent me a quick 'you have got to be kidding me' look, and sighed in annoyance, "Look, do I need to repeat myself? Don't call him Stanley. You are neither his mother nor his friend. He hates his name as much as he hates you. Which is a lot. Stan. Say it with me. Sssstaaaaaan. Got it? Ssstaaaaaaan. Nothin' to it. Stan. Simple, see? Clearly, little fireball, you have no idea who I am. Kyle Broflovski? Ring a bell? You know, the 'day walker' Jew who is Stan's super best friend, and, according to just about every Tom, Dick and Harry, his fuck buddy." The new kid looked taken aback, a little pale from this new piece of information, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You're not my friend, Ky," I almost whispered, shocked with why I hadn't shouted it at him.

"I... I know... But you're still mine, Stan. Even if I haven't really done anything to prove that true. But the fact that this is the second time today you've called me by my nickname makes me a little hopeful,"

I bit my tongue, turning towards the house before looking at him for a few moments. My face fell, and I glared lightly at the snow beneath our feet, "I think that we should make it clear that we don't hold any form of friendship together, anymore. We haven't since you left. Sorry if calling you 'Ky' gives you any shred of hope, it's just an old habit that hasn't yet died. I have a new best friend, and it's him. I'd appreciate it if you stop acting so rudely to him,"

"Yeah, okay," He rolled his eyes, clearly disbelieving what I had said, "I don't think this is working, dude. You know you hate him, and you know you're just using him right now to get back at me. Point taken, I get it. He's some crappy, half-assed attempt at replacing me. I'm flattered that you would go through the trouble, but there's no need to, really. You don't even know his name for Christ's sake!"

This seemed to fire the new kid up, a cruel smirk beginning to set like cement on his lips, "You think you really mean that much to him?" He laughed, "Stanley and I have a bond that you guys never had, which is why we're best friends! It was like we were meant to be! You're just so fucking jealous that you've started creating these delusions in your sick fucking head, so you don't have to deal with the fact that he doesn't need you anymore!"

Kyle looked like he wanted to puke as he eyed me wearily, "You're not fucking this short prick, are you?" He took my disgusted look as his answer, and sighed in relief, "Oh thank God. I was worried for a moment there. Wow. Heh... Look, kid, when you've known Stan since you were both in diapers, get back to me, until then, kindly shut your fucking mouth. This doesn't concern you."

"Say one more word and I'll kick your fucking ass!" The new kid threatened with a terrifying death glare. I was surprised that they both had firecracker personalities, although Kyle was a lot more tamed than what I was used to, which was probably good in regards to the new kid's safety, "Even if we were having sex, we wouldn't care if you didn't like it! Stanley is mine, not yours!"

"Good luck with that kid," He turned his attention onto me, having decided to ignore the short male, "You certainly know how to pick 'em, I'll give you that," He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, "I don't know how to start, especially with the little flame burning right there. Maybe I should just come out with it, just cleanly, say the words directly, no hesitation, nothing stopping me, nothing to delay me, just gonna say it... Stan, I'm g-"

"I didn't come out here for your excuse Kyle," I shrugged, cutting him off, although not harshly.

"Then... Why?"

I shrugged again, "Dunno. I wanted to hit you."

"Oh..." The red head looked completely exhausted, but removed his hands from his pockets and stood up tall, "Well, go ahead then. Free hit. Just... Don't aim for my chest; it's not very good for my heart at the moment,"

"Well, I can't do it now," I mumbled, feeling pretty lousy, "I don't feel angry now." He and the new kid fighting sort of burned all of the anger out of me, leaving me feeling like an empty, pathetic, shell.

Kyle took in a deep breath, looking troubled. He should have just told me what was wrong at that moment, even though I said I didn't want to hear it, he could have just came right out with it, forcing me to listen to the truth, but instead he chose to do something else. I didn't understand, if he wanted me to hear him out, then would have been the perfect time. I guess he didn't feel that it was right and for some crazy fucking reason, he must have wanted to be punished, "You feel pathetic, don't you?" He began in a shaky voice, "And truth be told, you kind of are, Stan. You're still hung up on me, even after everything I did to you, you're still thinking back to what it was like when we were friends. You know I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your friendship. I ruined you. I left you alone to suffer in the dark. I deserve to disappear, and to never come back because I was supposed to be your friend, and I just left. I was selfish. I shouldn't be forgiven. Weren't your parents fighting every day? Weren't you being blamed by them for everything? Where was I, Stan? Huh? Where was your so called best friend?" It was working; I was getting mad. My hands were clenched by my sides, and I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop talking, to stop reminding me. He just ignored every little plea I made, begging him to just shut up and leave me alone, "You want me to leave you alone? It's what I'm good at, isn't it? But the one time you want me to leave, I won't. Just like the many times you needed me I wasn't there. So where was I? Answer me Stan, where the fuck was I?! Where was your best fucking friend?!"

"I don't know!" I growled, punching him as hard as I could in his gut, struggling to hold myself back from hitting him again as he was hunched over in the snow, groaning quietly.

But he wasn't finished yet, as he looked up at me in pain, cocking his head to the side a little, "There was nothing wrong with me, was there? I still showed up at school each day. I still studied for upcoming tests. I still did what I used to do. But, you didn't know where I was. Your friend was gone, and he wasn't coming back for you. Instead, he treated you like you were a stranger. No, he treated you worse than that. Your best friend just watched as you suffered alone. He watched as you cried by Stark's Pond most days because your world was falling apart, and you didn't even have anyone to make you feel the least bit better. Guess who that was? Yep, that was me, Stan. That was me who watched you slowly die on the inside. And. I. Did. Nothing. To. Help. You."

"Shut up!" I shouted, hitting him again, sloppily falling atop of him, tears falling down my cheeks, "Just shut up. Please... Ky, please... please."

It seemed to take him a few moments to recover, and when he did he pushed against me, so he was pinning me to the numbingly cold snowy ground. He was crying too, but he kept on with the hurtful, hate inducing words, "Why now, you ask yourself. Why now? Why not back when it mattered? Why didn't he tell me when I held Excalibur over his heart? Why didn't he tell me when we lay beside each other for what he knew would be the last time?" He was absolutely distraught at that moment, eyes full of regret, "Why didn't he even tell me in that fucking pathetic note he left on my pillow? Why didn't he? Is it because he wouldn't be satisfied until everything in your life was completely torn; obliterated? He wouldn't be happy until you was miserable, unable to move on? But you were moving on, weren't you Stan?" At that point we were both crying pathetically, and he was still pinning me to the ground, unrelenting. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, he was warm. His hands intertwined tightly with mine which he held to the ground, not too far from my head. His breath, which was coming out in short, shallow huffs. His legs which straddled my hips, kept my body in place. I didn't expect this. Kyle was warm. "You were finally close to being able to be truly happy. You were finally able to handle the fact that I wasn't going to come back. I wasn't going to ruin your life anymore, because you were finally able to control it again. No more school meant you wouldn't have to see me. You wouldn't have to be taunted with the fact that I left you in the dark, where you were stuck for a long time, unable to escape, while I appeared to be perfectly fine. But I came back. I came back when I was no longer needed. Tell me why I came back, Stan."

I shook my head violently, clenching my eyes shut. I didn't want to have to suffer through this. He was right. Everything he said was right. I was finally moving on. Even though I was still hung up on him, I was finally getting on with life. I was finally getting over him. I managed to overpower him, so this time I was the one pinning him to the ground, "I don't know! Is that what you wanted to hear, Kyle? Did you want to hear that now that you've come back, I'll probably never get over the fact that even though I hate you I still fucking love you! You fucking left Kyle! You can't choose to come back after so long! You can't just walk in and out of my life as you please! You shouldn't have left that note, Ky... It made everything so much worse. I read it every day, hoping that it would magically change and give me the answer. But, even now, it just makes me more confused. 'I'll never forget you.' Really? It sure fucking felt like you did!" I loosened the tight grip I had on him, and got off of him, sitting in the snow pathetically, covering my face with my still warm hands. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried so much, or the last time I had even seen Kyle cry. But we cried together, and it felt strangely comforting. "You thanked me and left... You thanked me, dude... It doesn't make any sense..."

He crawled closer to me so we were knee to knee, and he grabbed my hands with his, forcing me to look into his eyes. He was smiling, just a little... "I didn't come back because I wanted you to hurt; I've done enough of that, even though that's kind of the reason I left in the first place. It's because this time it's me who needs you, Stan. Just like we were ten, and things came between us, you needed me. This time it's different. I need you more than I ever have. A week of your time is all I'm asking for. A week of you to pretend like we're still friends. You deserve to have known truth the second I found out, but it's not too late... Not yet, anyway... Stan, this confession has been delayed, but it's time I finally got the guts to tell you... I'm d-"

Kyle yelped, suddenly on his back and grimacing in pain. "How dare you!" the new kid growled, standing over the red head, a menacing look in his eyes, "How dare you try to fill Stanley's head with all of your filthy lies! Did you really think that I was just going to let you trick my best friend like that?! Did you really think I was going to let you continue ruining his life?!" He threw a fast, powerful punch down, making sure it connected with Kyle's chest, directly over his heart.

I was frozen, I couldn't move. It sounded like he was choking on his own blood. "K-Kyle...?" It seemed to take a lot of effort for him to roll over onto his hands and knees so he wouldn't drown in the red liquid that was now staining the pure, white snow. He was coughing a lot, clutching his chest in agony. "Kyle...?" I could hear the sound of his breaths, they sounded too forced. He... He couldn't breathe! "Kyle!"

The new kid held me back when I tried to go to the Jew's aid. I was already drained, and he was unnaturally strong for his frail size, easily able to tear me away. "He's trying to trick you Stanley," He assured me, dragging me across the street, back over to the house as I struggled against his grasp. I needed to go back! I needed to help! "He's a liar; he wants you to plunge back into your depression. He didn't like that you were moving on, he didn't like that you weren't miserable. You were close to being happy, and that's why he came to you. He wanted you to suffer worse. He wanted to remind you that he had complete control over you."

"He... He did?" I practically whimpered, unable to see my old friend suffering now that I was inside Butters' house again, "N-no. Kyle's not like that..."

"Are we talking about the same person here? He left you without a word for an entire year! Don't tell me that you've already forgotten that." He stopped moving, and turned to face me directly, looking up into my eyes as he held my cheeks in his small, soft hands. The new kid continued in a gentler, less harsh voice, "He's done it once, who's to say he won't do it again?" When he said it like that, in that petite, fragile voice, how could I doubt him? He beamed after seeing the newfound trust I placed in him, "Then let's grab something to drink and have a damn good time!"

...

I was drunk, but my head hurt. There was just this nagging in the back of my mind, like I had forgotten something really important. It probably wasn't even important, though. The new kid kept re-grabbing my attention every time it wandered, although he was a lot drunker than I. His words were slurred, but still translatable, "Less go upstars, Sssstaaaanleeeeey. I think - I think I wunnaa shshow yooooh a game." The mention of a game interested me, "Iss li... Awll yoooh hafta do, is juss, li' fin' tha otha per-persssonn, in cumplee' dark. n is akkly loss mor fun ten how m sayin'. Me n Sssammy play'd all tha tiiime. Iss cooool."

"Kay," I agreed brightly, drunkenly swaying on my feet as I struggled to take a few steps forward, where the staircase was. It probably would have been a bigger mission to climb the stairs than to manoeuvre around in the dark, in my current state. But something had grabbed my arm before I could get anywhere near my destination, "Kenny! What's you doin'?" I asked him, staring hard at the hand that was on my forearm in a vice-like grip.

"Stan..." His voice was threatening, forced out in a low growl. I looked up at his face and first saw that he looked pissed off. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was petrified, even the alcohol couldn't mask the sudden fear I felt. He began to pull me through the slightly dimmed crowd, not even loosening his hold.

The new kid noticed my disappearance, and quickly stumbled towards us, "Waaiii! Weeer yoooh taykin' ma Ssstaaaaannleey?"

"Home." Kenny's voice was short and choppy, like if anyone got in his way he would murder them. I didn't doubt that he would, he already had the look to kill in his eyes. I barely noticed him shove the new kid out of the way when he tried to intervene with his current mission.

Before long, we were in the cold streets, snow sprinkling down from the dark sky above. There was nothing but silence that hung in the air, much louder than the crunching of the snow under our feet. I had no idea what was going to happen, but the second I opened my mouth to speak, Kenny practically threw me on the ground in the snow.

"What the fuck were you thinking Marsh?!" He shouted, bending forward to grab me by the collar of my shirt, "Why the fuck did you walk away?!" He threw me down again, and I watched him wide-eyed, quickly sobering, "Your best fucking friend?!"

I needed to defend myself, but I didn't even fully understand what we were talking about, "He-he's not my best friend..." Was all I could murmur pathetically, "He walked away from m-"

"I don't fucking care!" He seethed lowly, trying to calm himself down, "Honestly, I don't fucking give a shit about how much you hate him; he couldn't breathe! Kyle was choking on his own fucking blood, and you fucking walked away! You couldn't even stay to help him out?! I could go into great detail about how fucking painful a way suffocation is to die, but the motion would be lost on you." I stayed silent, trembling as Kenny lowered himself so his face was directly above mine, and our noses were touching.

"You're not going to be happy until his sickness kills him, are you Stan?"