I don't know when it all started.

Maybe it happened way back in Kindergarten. Yeah, definitley back then. The day I met him... I immediately knew we were meant to be, y'know, like love at first sight. Maybe it was his kindness that got to me, or maybe it was just...him. The way his smile and bright eyes lightened me up even after fatass ruined my whole day. I was like a candle and he was the flame that kept me going. Even to this day, if I have the damndest of problems, the minute he walks into the same room as I am, everything is okay. I forget about everything and just focus on him.

I had just transferred schools. It took me quite the effort to convince my mom to take me out of that god damned gifted school and send me to South Park elementary, but I obviously succeeded in doing so. Unfortunatly for me, that fucking bastard Cartman spread dirty rumors around the classroom after I had told everyone I was Jewish. No one talked to me. Everyone avoided me. Even the teacher would avoid talking to me.

That is, until he came in.

He was late, as he always is, and he stumbled into the classroom with a load of papers and crayons stuffed into his backpack falling out everywhere. No one noticed him, however. No one, except me. I must've looked like a freak, I was staring directly at him, but the strangest thing was that he was staring right back at me. His eyes glittered and a huge, shit-eating grin slowly crept accross his face. I thought he probably was about to laugh at me for being such a queer, so I turned away in embarrasment and continued fingerpainting. We didn't talk for the rest of the day, but I couldn't stop drawing him. My blue crayon was just about worn out once the bell rang for home time, but I couldn't help him. No amount of blue could and can match up to his eyes. He must've noticed my massive scribbling, and once he carelessly threw on his backpack, he came running up to my table group.

"Uh, hi!" He said cheerfully. It was the first time I ever heard him say anything. "Uh, My name ahre Sta-hn, wh-at yourss?"

His grammar and pronounciation was so bad, I did all I could to stop from throwing my head back and laughing. I'm thankful I didn't though, or else I would've never become friends with him.

"My name's Kyle." I told him without missing a beat. Hey, I'm gifted, you can't blame me for that.

"K-ahluh." He repeated, his smile growing wider by the second. "Uh, kuhl nayme. I, uh, liykey you ahre hair Kahl. It's r-red."

The name "Kahl" stuck for quite a while. Until I was in Grade 2, I think. Cartman eventually caught on, and started using it for himself. Sonovabitch, it doesn't sound nearly as nice coming from his mouth than Stan's. I wish Stan'd call me that again...now it's just "Kyle". "Kyle" the Jew, "Kyle" the nerd. I don't want Stan to call me something that has been dirtied with so many insults. I just want him to call me...his.

I don't know why he did that.

Cartman, I mean. That fat fuck ruined any chances of me being happy. That fucking Hitler Jr. should keep his queer comments to himself, instead of to him.

Stan, I mean.

We were all sitting together in the cafeteria. Kenny had died a little earlier, so it was just the three of us. Without Kenny, there was no one to protect me from the hate comments Eric threw at me every fucking day, but it was just one day. I was sure I could make it through just one day. What could possibly go wrong?

Everything, that's what.

Stan and I were sitting on the right side of the table, as usual, and fatass sat alone on the other side. I uncapped my sugar-free ice tea my mom had made especially for me. Stan, being the trickster he is, snatched a sip from my bottle. Of course, I don't usually care about him stealing sips from my drink, and back then I didn't mind either, so I just ignored it as he licked his lips, until a rude remark emitted from the other side of the table.

"EWW YOU GAIZ ARE DRINKING FROM THE SAME BOTTLE!" Fatass screamed in fake disgust, making vomitting actions with his two chubby fingers. "STAHHNN, ARE YOU AFRAID OF JEW GERMS? EWW YOU GAIZ ARE KISSING THROUGH THE FUCKING ICE TEA."

"Grow the fuck up Cartman, you can't kiss someone just by sharing the same bottle." Stan said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you fucking fatass." I added. "Kissing involves lips and tounges and saliva."

"No, you gaaahhs, I'm seriouslah!" He retorted. "It's liek, tha rules! If you share the same cup, or cahn, or bottle with someone else, you're kissing! Eww, you gaiz are such fags."

"Well, if we shower together and sleep in the same fucking bed, I don't think it would matter if we shared the same bot-" I could just barely stop him before I slammed my hand over his mouth.

"Uh, only when we're a-at sleepovers and stuff..." I desepratley added. I could see Stan was pinching the bridge of his nose. "...Does that make it sound less gay?"

Cartman just laughed and walked away, muttering things about fags and Jews. I didn't mind at all, except when Stan followed suit. For the first time in my life since my first day of Kindergarten, I was eating alone.

And I was eating alone for 2 months after that day as well.

I don't know why she just had to come.

It was just the two of us, before Cartman ruined it, and before she came along.

That day in March, the first day she came. She was transferred from the same school as I was, except she came in a few years later. The moment she was introduced by Mr. Garrison, I knew something was up. I knew something wasn't right. I looked to my right, where he sat through most of the second Grade, and I saw it again. I saw that fucking glitter in his eyes again. The same ones that were there the day I met him. I haven't seen those glitters in his eyes since that incident at the slumber party. And right there, I knew one thing was certain:

I was officially screwed.

They got together a week after. After that, he started talking to me again, which I suppose is a good thing. But it isn't. It was no longer "Stan and Kyle", it was "Stan and Wendy". If you just happened to eavesdrop on a certain group's conversation, there was no doubt you'd hear something about him and her. Together. He apoligized to me, talking about how much an ass he was for the past 2 months and making up false excuses about how he felt bummed out for not having a girlfriend, about not having a first official kiss yet. You don't know how much the last part hurt me. I was this close to breaking out into tears.

That's because he did have a first kiss. He stole mine and I did to him as well.

I don't want to admit it, but I guess I have to do it someday.

It's not entirely because of fatass, only partially. I only use him as an excuse to pacify my thoughts and to prevent me from breaking out into tears.

You see, in normal circumstances, if the fat fuck ever claimed us to be queers, we'd just beat him up.

Only that time, it was true. At least, it was for me.

Sleepovers are magical. Clubhouses are magical as well. Combine the two and you get double the magic. Stan, Kenny, and I were just being normal, everyday kids, hanging out in Kenny's dad's clubhouse, also known as Kenny's house. The walls were covered with old posters of porn stars and the floors were buried in Playboy magazines. We were just setting up our gay sleeping bags in the just as gay room, when something the most gayest of all happened, (Well the most gayest of all was me, but you get the point.):

Kenny died.

He was taking a dump in his poor little bathroom, when he fell in and drowned in a bowl of his own diarrehea. It's kinda funny, and at the same time tragic. But it's still funny.

"Oh my God! They killed Kenny!"

"You Bastards!"

We locked the door to the bathroom, because neither of us could stand the smell, plus the thought of seeing him naked was both awkward and embarrassing for both of us. I feel kinda bad now for leaving Kenny, but it's okay, he was cool about it. The rest of the night was filled with stuff you'd usually see at a chick's slumber party. Would you rathers, which girl is the cutest, who would you date, what if's and then finally, Truth or Dare.

You all know what happens when Truth or Dares start at sleepovers, right?

It started off with the obvious stuff. 'Stan, who do you like?' 'Eww, girls are gross dude.' 'Kyle, I dare you to stay in the bathroom for 30 seconds!' Blah blah blah blah blah.

Then it started getting personal, which of course led to exactly what the game was meant for.

"Who was your first kiss?" I asked.

"I didn't have one yet." He replied shyly. "How about you?"

"Same."

Suddenly, the room seemed darker, more awkward, I felt hotter, and I could tell he felt the same too.

"Well, uh, you know, you wanna like, uh, try it?" He muttered in an almost inaudible whisper, but my ears picked it up as if it were the loudest scream.

"I don't know how..." I admitted. "Plus, we're like...guys."

"Well, not like we'd be gay or anything, right?" His eyes flickered to mine back and forth. "We're just...e-experimentallying...right?"

I didn't want to, but God, did I want to. I already knew I was bicurious. Kenny had tested me a few weeks before that day with a test he claimed "never failed", and I trusted him because he was right. He still is. Before I could protest however, I felt something warm on my face.

That's when I realized what it was. It was a kiss.

I don't really know why I did that.

Okay, I lied. I do. I was jealous and stupid. That's why.

Kenneth James McCormick was an innocent man in all of this. I shouldn't have dragged him into it. I really shouldn't have.

But I couldn't take it anymore.

Everyday, in the mornings or between classes they would fucking kiss right in front of me. I wish I hadn't begged Principal Victoria to put my locker right next to Stan's. Maybe this wouldn't have happened. Every time Stan would come to my house, either for tutoring or just for fun, all he'd talk about was her. I was going insane. He wouldn't stop talking about her, especially in front of me. It was as if he was trying to make me jealous of him or something.

So I dated Kenny. Just to make Stan jealous, of course. I dated him and kissed him and held hands with him everywhere, and I felt so bad for it. He loved me. He really, really loved me, and I just...lied. I lied straight to his face. I lied through every kiss. Everytime our fingers intertwined, everytime I said "I love you"...I lied.

And when I told him, he broke.

I didn't want Kenny to die. I really didn't. He had been continuosly alive for the past 4 years. But I killed him.

I killed Kenny.

I found him dead a few weeks ago, in his room. The doctors say he had already been dead for 2 weeks when I found him, but no one would know. He had locked himself in his bedroom for 3 months.

And it was all because of me.

I don't want him to hate me.

But he does. Everytime I walk by him now, he gives me a look of pure disgust. Anytime my name is brought up in a conversation, he quickly changes it to something else. I'm a failure in his eyes. A sick, pathetic failure. Everyday, I wish I could just go back in time, to that day when I falsly confessed to Kenny, and tell myself to shut the fuck up and confess to Stan instead.

I asked him one day. I asked him why he was ignoring me. He looked in my vomit green ones with his dusty blue ones and practically screamed out his reasons.

One, I fucking killed Kenny, one of our best friends.

Two, I'm a bastard for breaking Kenny's heart.

Three, I'm a fucking deranged physco who broke his.

Why didn't I confess to him? He loved me. The only reason why he got together with Wendy was to make me jealous, and he told me the reason why that was okay because Wendy was stronger, more stable than Kenny.

Kenny's fragile. Even I know that. I'm the heedless son of a bitch who broke the poor kid. And for what reason? Stan. But I already had him. I had him and I didn't even fucking know, but I lost him like the idiot I am.

I'd love to blame it on him. I'd love to blame it on Wendy, Cartman, or even Kenny. But it's me to blame.

All because of the envy that got the best of me.