AN: Its 1 in the morning and I just finished writing this spur of the moment… thing. So excuse the writing skill, or lack thereof. It may not be up to my greatest ability because I'm near death in tiredness.

Everything written in italics is a dream. (Hopefully you'd all catch that without me having to say so but one never knows). Anyway, please enjoy!

Disclaimer: No I dont own bloody South Park. I wish.

Warnings: Usual SP language and slash, though nothing comes of it.

Let One Good Tear Fall

"It's been 2 years 11 months and 29 days...-" I'm cut off.

"You're counting? You're still counting?"

"…yeah. I can't help it...I need too."

"… sorry to interrupt, go on."

I nod and look down at my hands. They're a little calloused, they've done some work.

"Tomorrow it will have been three years. Three full years… and its not easier. You said it would get easier over time and it hasn't. I mean the others, they're fine, not as bad and I… I…"

"You what? Why haven't you moved on, even if it's just a little bit?"

I bit my lip at the question. How should I know? I don't know that answer that's why I'm here. This is why I didn't want to be here. Instead of answers I get questions fired back at me. I stand and so does the doctor.

"Where are you going? We still have the full hour practically. It's only been a few minutes."

"I know, I know." I look around at the office and see the flashing red button on the phone. I point to it, "You'll want to check those. Some poor basket case might need you."

"And what about you? Don't you need me too?"

The doctor must really want his daily paycheck.

"No," I grab my coat from the couch where I had thrown it just moments ago. "What I need is for it to be 2 years, 11 months and 29 days in the past. What I need is him back, what I need is for my friends, sorry ex-friends, to be back in my life. What I don't need is some fucking money hungry shrink asking me questions I don't have any goddamn answers to!"

I rush out of the room, hearing him call my name, but I ignore him and continue out of his office, through the lobby and I don't stop until I'm outside. When I finally push through the double glass doors I take a deep breath of the crisp air.

I'm panting, as if I just finished running a marathon. Resting my arms against my knees, my head facing the cement sidewalk, barely feeling as people brush by me.

He's not close by, but I can hear the footsteps. I've learned to pick out his footsteps from so many others, because it's those sounds of walking that I avoid. I straighten when a pair of shoes stop in front of me. I glance half heartedly at the owners face, knowing it will be the one I've been trying to avoid since that time ago.

We're about the same height but he's slightly shorter than me. I don't know what to say as I look at those green eyes. The ones that are still filled with immense hatred for me, for what I did.

"You're in my way," Kyle says to me. I look around seeing that he could easily go around me but instead he chooses to confront me. I move aside, quietly.

He stays where he is and glances at the building I had just ran out of. I'm startled when I see his eyes widen with a hint of concern, but the gleam is quickly shut off once he turns back to me. Before he can say another word the receptionist from the doctors building rushes out. She's out of breath too.

"Ken, Kenny..." she tries to catch her breath as she looks at me."If you'd please, please head back upstairs. The doctor would like to continue with the appointment."

Kyle bores his eyes into me and I squirm at their emotion. To the receptionist I shake my head and start walking backwards, to Kyle I give one last look before turning and running off. He only lets me get so far before he yells, "2 years, 11 months, and 29 days today Kenny. Do you know that?"

I don't face him and I continue to run, only allowing a tear to fall. Just one good tear. Of course I know. Every day I add on an additional day. Every day more days pass without him. I want the days to go down but it doesn't work like that, they'll continue to go up and the calendars will continue to haunt me.

When I get home I toss my shoes off, throw off my jacket and make my way to my room. It's messy as usual but it's all I have, and it's the place with the most comforting memories, even if over half make me want to lose my sanity in tears. I'm still trying not to let any further tears fall from what Kyle said. I pat my cheeks, take deep breaths, and look at the ceiling with just my eyes. Anything and everything to keep them in.

Since that day it's always been hard for me to sleep on the day before the anniversary. It's probably hard for Kyle too, but I think, it may be harder for me.

I rummage around my room, my closet, under my bed, my desk drawers, nearly tearing everything apart until I find what I'm looking for. Needles only look this good when you're a mess as I am. Finding a container that isn't empty is harder and I grow angry in frustration when I remember I used the last of what I had a week ago. I've been too preoccupied with the memories and the approaching date to get more.

Fine. I'll settle with cheap beer. Anything to be just a little numb. Only when I toss the empty beer bottle at a few other do I see how much I've drank. I try to count, but my head lolls to the side. I don't know when I did it, but I'm sitting up against my door, my legs sprawled out in front of me. I try counting; I should know how much of this cheap shit is in my system. I start counting but forget when a gleam from a passing truck outside catches my eye.

"Shiztz..." I curse to myself silently. I think I lost count at... 10? 15? Fuck if I know. The sun is right and my face and I hold up my hand to block the rays. Even nature fucking hates me.

Its still mid day but I have nothing better to do, and I'm suddenly so very tired so I decide on a nap, actually I think I pass out. As I slowly close my eyes, just when it's too late to stop myself from falling asleep, I realize sleeping is even worse. Because I can't stop my mind from wandering, especially as pissed as I am. I can't stop it from thinking about him, of Stan. It'll freely go wherever it wants and I have to deal with its decision until I wake up.

I feel my head land on a beer bottle but there's no pain. I only hear the clink when my head makes contact with the glass. Such a familiar sound...

Clink!

"Cheers! Happy Birthday Stan!" We all yell in excitement and some people blow those annoying party whistles and crank those spinning tops that make even more obnoxious noise. It doesn't matter because all I see is him smiling and looking with excitement at the cake we all made just a few hours ago.

He laughs, not because of happiness but because the cake looks like complete shit. Neither I, Kyle nor Cartman can cook. Not to mention the cake can't even feed everyone since Cartman kept eating the fucking cake batter.

I sit to the side and watch as Kyle leans in and tells Stan this, he laughs harder and looks over at Cartman who's talking to Wendy.

"Hey fat ass, what gives you the right to eat my cake? You eat enough as is."

A few of us chuckle and shout our agreements, Cartman mutters under his breath but doesn't retort. Stan cuts the cake after blowing the candles, making his wish. There's more cheering, he opens presents and then announces the party can officially start. Which are like magic words as suddenly all different brands of beer appear out of nowhere.

Good thing all the parents were at the town meeting that night.

But it wasn't a good thing. I don't want to think about this, but I'm still drunk and I can't fight my unconsciousness. I toss and turn but eventually I fall back in, picking up where I left off.


I had been preparing for this night for weeks. First I had to be good and a little drunk. Talking with Craig and Clyde for a little bit, my eye keeping itself on Stan I finally excuse myself when I notice him retreat outside, where the party has yet to drift.

Making my way through the kitchen I feel the lump start to form in my throat and I swallow as hard as I can, pushing the nervousness back inside.

"You can do this Kenny!" I chant to myself. Of course I can, I've been planning this day, waiting for it since I realized I had fallen for him. And the best part is that I think, I know he feels the same way. The way he's been around me, so close always coming to me. Talking to me more than he ever did, touching me more than I ever thought he'd attempt. Not in sexual ways but sensual.

I gave up everything so I'd be perfect him. I want to be good enough to have him with me. The pointless sex with random strangers is gone and so are the drugs. No more, I fucking suffered rehab for him, because I love him and after 17 years of a hell hole life I'll finally get something great and its him, it's Stan.

I'm starting to get uncharacteristically giddy as I approach the back screen doors, pushing them opening slowly and heading outside. I see right away that he's not in the backyard, so I make my way to the side yard and stop at the corner of his house when I hear his voice. His and... Kyle's?

I thought Kyle was inside. Shrugging, I light a cigarette and lean against the house listening in on their conversation which sounds purely casual until I hear Kyle confess something to Stan. The same thing I was going to confess tonight.

My cigarette falls from my fingers and my breath stops when I hear Kyle repeat the same words. I don't, can't stick around; I flee back in the house. Kyle... Kyle cares for him the same way I do... Cartman stops me a moment to ask something or another but I don't hear him and push him aside as I head up the stairs to the second level of Stan's house.

I need somewhere where I can be alone, and there's too many people downstairs. The music is still blaring, the air is smoke filled with a whiff of MJ mixed in, but the booze is the most powering scent.

I begin opening doors of bedrooms. Shelly's is taken, Mr. and Mrs. Marsh's is taken. I think I'm about to cry when I open Stan's and see that no one is inside. I walk in, and fall on his bed. My face is crushed on his scent and my minds whirling.

When did he-, I thought Kyle and he were-, We were getting along so well-... I thought he and I...

I have to get out of here. I raise my head from the mattress and start to breathe, fast. When I get to a breaking point there's a loud knock on the door. I jump.

"Taken!" I manage to say, but the door opens and Stan stands there looking at me. Looking at me with those blue eyes, and he looks confused as he looks studies his room.

"Kenny? Kenny what are you doing up here... alone?"

He smiles at that, because I never used to enter a bedroom by myself. When he looks at me, and I mean really looks at me, his face turns to worry.

"Kenny, what's wrong? Have you... Jesus, you've been crying haven't you?"

What! No! I have not! Have I?

I reach a hand up to feel one of my eyes and when I look at my hand I see that it's wet. Stan closes his door and walks over to me, brushing my tears away, I shrink away from his touch even though I love the way his thumbs feel against my cheek bones.

The ones I used to love and crave. Now I have to stay far from them because those touches are meant for Kyle. He asks me what's wrong again, but I can't answer him. How could I possible I answer him?

I can't. I won't, and now I really have to go. I make me way out and he follows me, calling out to me, but I don't listen. When I see Kyle at the base of the stairs, I can feel them coming back.

Those fucking useless tears, and I rip my eyes from him, stalk past him and head outside, grabbing Cartman's keys from the table.

"Aye! Where the fuck are you going with those!" I hear his whine and I ignore it, heading for the new car Cartmans mom gave him on his 17th.

I jerk up from my bed, sweat pouring down my face, my limbs entangled in the sheets. I'm swallowing hiccups and heavy amounts of air. At least the dream didn't finish. It doesn't matter though, it always finishes even when I wake up. Because it's not a dream, it really happened.

I was really upset that night; I really did take Cartmans car. Stan tried to stop me, I didn't listen, I refused too. I was too hurt. I blasted his music, and cried, I hit the car in reverse. I didn't see him, I didn't think he'd do anything so stupid... I didn't know he was in the way...

The rest of the night was confusion and shock. The ambulance came and took Stan away. I couldn't be with him because I was being checked for DUI, but I saw that Kyle was with him. Kyle didn't look good and he kept his eyes on Stan whose own pair were closed. They loaded him and that was the last time I saw him.

I got off, didn't get charged for a thing. Things like this always get off in South Park. They all forgave me, even the Marshes. But Kyle... and Cartman, though it was more for his crashed car, they never talked to me. No one has hated me more than Kyle does from taking Stan from him. But I don't need him to hate me, I can do that myself.

I glance over at my digital clock. Its 2:31 a.m. it's now been 3 years since I killed Stan. The person I cared for most, the person I was going to tell that day on his last birthday, that I loved him and that I wanted him to love me back.

Climbing out of bed I try to shake off the grogginess as I made my way out of the house. I was late this year because I slept in...

The cemetery is big and it's dark, and technically it's closed. But I climb over the crude fence and make my way blindly across the hundreds of graves to where Stan is. I could find his in my sleep. I shiver when a cold quick breeze blows by and stop in my tracks. There's two other figures standing where I'm about to be. I can't see their faces, but I'd know those body frames anywhere. I approach slowly and give them time to realize I'm there.

Kyle jumps slightly before he realizes it's me. I don't actually see it because it's so dark but I know he's frowning. As for Cartman, he's just staring at the headstone in a daze.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off getting stoned or something?" Kyle asks me tartly.

I say nothing, so he continues.

"You're an odd killer Kenny. Not a lot of murderers visit their victim's graves."

I bite my tongue looking at the dark grass as I try to remember I didn't come here to see Kyle, I came here to see Stan. What surprises me is Cartman, who seems to come out of his trance.

"Fucking Christ Jew, would you leave the poor fucker alone! Fuck! Like his intention was to roll over Stan with a car!"

His defensiveness against me almost made me smile until that last line. How fucking crude.

"Yeah well you know what fat ass? He did! He killed Stan because he was drunk!" Kyle yells this more to me than Cartman.

"I wasn't drunk!" I yell back surprised that I yelled.

"Yeah fucking right. You were throwing them back Kenny, I saw you, I watched you all evening!"

"And I sobered up before I left! How the fuck would you know anyway? The last few hours you were probably screwing him out on the side yard!"

"What!" Both Cartman and Kyle exclaimed at the same time.

"How does every moment with you guys turn fag!"

I ignore Cartman and focus on Kyle. I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to confront him with what happened that day.

"What are you talking about, screwing him on the side yard?" Kyle asks.

"Don't play with me Kyle. I fucking heard you spill your guts to Stan that night. I can only imagine he said it back and that you two fucked to celebrate."

"Is that what you think happened?" Kyle smirks and runs a hand through his red curls. He points a finger at me, its inches from me face. "Look, you, yeah I "spilled my guts" to Stan, but do you know what he did? He said, uncomfortably, that he was flattered but he thought it'd be best if we stayed friends. Besides, and here he blushed, he loved you. You! Okay?"

As I felt the loss of air return, Kyle still went on. "So in one night I felt like ripping my heart out, twice."

"He... loved me?" I asked in a whisper.

The anger left Kyle's voice as he responded in the same fashion, "yeah." I heard Kyle sniff in the darkness. I wonder if he let one good tear fall as there were no sounds of crying.

I turned my head to Stan and the same words from Kyle repeated in my head till I was dizzy. "He loved you."

He loved me. And now he was gone, because of me.

My eyes turned back to Kyle's figure.

"Kyle how much do you hate me?" I had to ask.

"I don't know... you had his heart." Kyle's voice faltered, "and you took him... but it was by accident and you couldn't help that he didn't choose me... Why do you ask?"

I took a deep breath, "because it's been really hard to go through this, much harder without you. Even Cartman."

"Glad to know I haven't been forgotten during the sap," I hear Cartman mutter.

I cast Cartmans figure a look before staring back at the headstone.

"It's been hard for me too." Kyle says.

"And me," we both look at Cartman surprised. "Because, you know, my car got crashed..." he trails off.

There's silence among the three of us. Kyle is the first to break it.

"We should all... um, do something... later on. This weekend…?"

I don't hesitate to nod, this is what I want. Cartman does hesitate but he agrees reluctantly after releasing his comforting name calling. Each one of us glances once more at Stan's grave before deciding to go. It's getting colder out. When Kyle and Cartman are a few paces ahead I run back over and crouch down beside the headstone reading the name, the birth and date death and I finally whisper the words I never got to tell him, but now they get to be four words instead of three.

"I love you, too."

Kyle calls out my name in the dark and I jog to catch back up. The sky is just a little lighter even if though it's still dark. Throwing one last look at the grave, just before we turn from view I mutter, "Happy Birthday," surprised when I notice it was said in unison with two others.

End

AN: Well? I have this thing for writing depressing stuff, I dont know how some of you do happy, cheerful and funny. Sad stuff is easier for me to write even though I personally dont care for reading it. Go figure huh? Let me know with a review! Hope everyone had a good 4th of July if you live in my country!

Faery Goddyss