'Stan? Are you there?' Kenny McCormick's muffled voice pierces through the window near Stanley Marsh's bed.

Surprised by his buddy's unexpected visit, Stan opens the window, and blades of wind abruptly find their way to cut Stan's cheeks. Besides his gloomy mood today, Stan is quickly remedied by his buddy's bright eyes popped from his orange parka.

'Yeesh, it sure is freezing outside. Wait! Hold on a sec Kenny.' He realises, and awkwardly removes the books sitting on an area of the bed where Kenny is soon landing on.

'It's okay Stan. A few books won't kill.' Kenny struggles to climb through the window, clumsily falls on Stan's wrinkled sheet. It seems that Kenny sees through Stan's effort every time before he sneaks in his bedroom.

'Dude, you know how fragile you are.'

'At least I'm not heart-broken as someone when Wendy dumps him.'

Even most of his face is covered by his parka for most of the time, Stan can tell that Kenny is teasing him.

'You heard about it already?' Stan turns away from Kenny as he places his books back to the shelves near at the end of his bed. He doesn't want his buddy to look at his face now.

'Or why do you think I'm here at 1 am?'

'This matter has nothing worth talking about.'

'Then what's with that blank face throughout the whole day?'

'I'm just… tired.'

'Stan.'

'Look, I'm happy about it Kenny. Thanks, dude. But right now I just want to be alone.'

This is what he has been telling Kyle over the entire afternoon.

'You don't like her the same way since a long time ago, right?'

'Who told you that?'

'How long do you think we have known each other, Stan?'

Kenny's voice is clearer than ever. Stan turns his head, just to realise Kenny removes his hood, revealing his blonde hair.

'Kenny, I'm not sure if you would understand.'

'Tell me.'

'Have you liked someone so, so deeply before?'

Stan flings himself to the edge of his bed.

Kenny doesn't reply. He moves to sit by Stan, rests his head on his hand and waits for his sad buddy's elaboration.

'Wendy... no longer "clicks" with me, that's what she told me today. She said it's not that she is in love with someone else, but we are just, no longer on the same page now.' Stan pauses and sighs. 'I don't understand, Kenny. But I guess I know I'm the only idiot around here. I… I really don't know how to say it right, but the way she looks at me, and the way she calls me. When I realised these… stuff about her changed a long time ago, I just can't… dare to imagine our breakup. And… you know, after the last lesson today, she stopped me when we were off to the bus stop with Kyle and Cartman… and, she said "sorry there won't be next time."'

Kenny silently stares at the red rings emerging around Stan's grey-blue eyes.

What is love? The little boy still remembers, the way she looks at him in the eyes for the first time, and the last time. Heck. Every time looking at her is like the first time. Her laughs, her sulks, her questions and answers, her complaints whenever he throws up French fries and cheesy poofs in front of her. Her black hair, her pink beret, her pinky fingers. Why would he not like her? There is no way. But things change – just as Kyle always says – no matter how we don't want them to happen. Once he believes in all the butterflies he has been having in his tummy, his wildest wonders surrounding being with her since he is a child. By Stark's Pond; on a tree branch. They held hands; they shared their kisses. Laughs, tears, secrets, memories.

And, they shared their hearts.

'Hey look, it's Wendy Testaburger!'

'Hi, Stan!'

'Hey, Wendy... EURGH!'

'EW! Forget about it Stan. There is next time!'

...

'Sorry, I'm a bit late. Kenny was dead just now so they call me over.'

'It's alright, forget about it. Let's hang out!'

…

'Sorry Stan, it doesn't work for us. Just forget it. There won't be next time.'

But… I don't want to forget.

As he eventually bursts into tears on Kenny's shoulder, breathing in the most familiar aroma of nylon from the little orange parka, Stan chooses to let the screw loosing up a bit – for just a little bit. Kenny is astonished by Stan's tears. All he can think of doing now is wrapping his arm around his crying friend's shoulders. The quiet boy has expected that Stan might be throwing tantrums at him tonight before he sneaks out from his house, yet he didn't anticipate his friend crying in front of himself.

Kenny remembers Mr Garrison often saying 'Poontangs, poontangs, don't let them get between you and your friend'. He knows he has been letting Wendy getting between him and Stan for a long time. As a friend who gets killed more often than doing anything grand in his life – and moreover, as a guy – even knowing he is feeling more than he is supposed to feel for Stan, Kenny never asks for more than being an accomplice in the vilest mischiefs, and a buddy in the naughtiest gang.

Plus most importantly, a friend of Stanley Marsh.

'Feeling better?'

'Yes… thanks, dude.'

'No probs.' "Dude", of course. Kenny pulls up his hood again.

Before and after tonight, Kenny has never been so eager to confess to Stan about how he is feeling for him over the years – on the inside. Despite his young and supposedly impulsive age, Kenny understands what Stan needs now is cooling down, not another pseudo-homosexual friend's love confession.

Death might pursue him. Fate might forsake him. But Kenny is not letting the dearest person to him on the Earth down.

A spark lit. Kenny states one of the craziest – if not the craziest – requests ever in his life.

'Hey Stan. Do you want me to sleep with you? Just sleeping together, and nothing else.'

'Huh?'

'I said, do you want me to…'

'I heard that at the first time. No, of course!'

'But you don't feel right!'

'What does it have to do with sleeping together with you in the same bed? We aren't girls, dude.'

'My mum did that all the time when I was sad in the past.'

'Seriously Kenny, is it one of your dirty jokes?' Stan pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes close. As a close friend of Kenny since childhood, Stan always knows his friend is sometimes obsessive with raunchy humour. But, but oh no not now!

'I'm serious, dumbass.' As he reaches out to the little blanket lying at the end of his bewildered friend's bed, Kenny autonomously slithers to the inner side and lies down. 'Good night, Stan.' Kenny conveys his last words tonight.

One eternity later – at least to Stan – a quiet chain of snores permeates through the blanket. It is already quarter past two. Stan is still sitting in the same position, staring at the asleep Kenny with his jaw dropped to the floor. For quite a while.

'Kenny sure is losing it tonight. Maybe he will go back to normal tomorrow.' In his exhausted little world, this is the only conclusion he could come up tonight.

This is more than awkward. In all these 14 years in his life, at least as far as he remembers, Stanley Marsh has been only sleeping with himself. Comparing to some pseudo-big-boned moron from his little clique, Kenny is rather slim from head to toe. Even in darkness without the help of moonlight or any light source, he knows his friend is lying no more than five inches away from his arm. He can feel the warmth slowly seeping from the orange parka boy's side to his side. Stan genuinely doesn't know what to believe now – with the heat lurking, and slight movements of the anatomy in the dreams, Kenny's existence swells exponentially.

Stan doesn't mind his buddy sleeps in for a night or two. It's just not the right time. Or, is it? Just a few previous moments ago, he thought he is still preoccupied with his breakup with Wendy, but right now – just for a bit – the bossy attitude of the usually quiet boy Kenny makes him feeling nothing else but a sudden eager to laugh. Who would ever comfort him in such way, and always being successful in this department? Kenny. Only Kenny.

Kenny, and Stanley. He is not forsaken, and not forgotten. Stan lies down on the outer side of the bed, glances at Kenny's back. This dude sure sleeps fast! He doesn't even has the chance to sack him away.

Kyle has been worrying throughout the day – he thought to himself – he shall at least say hi to that anxious idiot tomorrow.

'Thanks, Kenny. Goodnight.'

Stan shuts his eyes.