A/N: I'm back! I will continue my other two fics (Caretaker and Scars to Remember), but in the meantime I wanted to do a songfic to one of my all-time favorite songs by A Perfect Circle. Enjoy!

BLUE

I didn't want to know
I just didn't want to know

Best to keep things in the shallow end
'Cause I never quite learned how to swim

"I'm so sorry," I said, but I know I'm repeating myself. I feel like I've already said it several times.

"I know," he said, trying to stable his voice. "I just wanted to let you know," he said to no avail, his voice still cracking.

"I'm really sorry," I said. I feel stupid, again repeating myself. Truth is I don't really know what to say to him. What can you say to someone who just lost their brother?

"Thanks for telling me Ike," I said to him. "Let me know when the funeral will be."

"I will," he choked. "Bye,"

I hung up the phone.

Damn.

I sat down on the couch in my family room, trying to process this. To be honest, this didn't surprise me. Can't say I didn't see it coming. I guess I'm just a bit in shock that it actually happened, if there's a difference between the two.

After collage, Stan started a great career as an engineer. I didn't know he was that smart academically, either. He married Wendy, and they had a daughter and two boys, and the boys were twins. I've seen family pictures. They all look gorgeous and so fucking happy, like a portrait done by Norman Rockwell. I don't know what really happened between Kyle and Stan the last few years. I figured they just drifted apart. Sometimes Kyle would mention him, but it seemed like there was a disconnect. He talked about Stan like a fond but distant memory from years ago, which I guess in a way he was. I didn't want to pry, so I didn't ask any questions.

Kyle occasionally talked to other people we grew up with. Jimmy, Token, Butters… I guess he liked Butters the most. But towards the last few years, Kyle didn't really open up to anyone, except me. I've been working as a bartender well before I turned 21, so of course I was Kyle's best friend. Can't say I never gave him free alcohol either. I did that quite a few times in fact.

I really liked him. He was one of the smartest people I've ever met, as well as one of the kindest. I enjoyed all our conversations, and I even enjoyed the times we got shit-faced together. He went through some things that were hard for me to watch. He told me about when he used to cut himself as a teenager, and I remember when he lost way too much weight when he was 19. Yeah, he had gone through some serious shit, but Kyle was a strong person. I knew he would make it through.

But I had some serious concern when he told me about what was going on with him and Cartman.

Christ, ANYONE but him, I thought.

Don't get me wrong, Cartman is my friend too. But Kyle had been through so much and, when he finally lets his walls down, he loves someone with everything he's got. Very attached, co-dependent even. And when he told me how he was too afraid to have sex living under his parent's house, and that he lost his virginity later in life to Cartman, I knew he was going to be way too attached to him. I knew from the beginning it wouldn't work out. They just weren't compatible. Too different. Good and evil, night and day.

Cartman would do him in.

And so, he did.

I just didn't want to know
Didn't want
Didn't want
Didn't want
Didn't want

Close my eyes just to look at you
Taken by the seamless vision
I close my eyes
Ignore the smoke
Ignore the smoke
Ignore the smoke

I hung up the phone, sobbing. I saw a tear or two fall onto the screen of my cell phone. I threw my phone across the bed and buried my face in the pillow. My heart felt like it was in my stomach while I lifted my head up to gasp for air. Did this really happen? How could he do that? But why? I mean, I thought Kyle was a happy fella…

I reckon there were some things I didn't know. Like that one time, about ten years ago, Kyle got awfully thin. Everytime I asked him if he wanted to do something, he would turn it down. A lot of the time he said he was too tired and didn't have the energy. And then he went away for awhile. Kenny said it was a health thing, sort-of. I didn't ask. But I was really happy when I saw him for the first time a couple of months later. He gained some weight, and he looked great! He had color in his face, freckles on his cheeks, and he was smiling, really smiling! It wasn't until I saw him smile that I realized how little Kyle smiled at that time in his life.

A few years later, Kyle would invite me and so we went to dance clubs and bars, and often times Kenny too. I would always go along because I've always looked up to the fella. He was handsome, smart, and he sure knew how to have a good time! Boy, did Kyle like to drink! I remember him challenging me to a second shot of something strong, but I said no. My tummy was already feeling queasy after the first shot. And really, I'm just not that big into alcohol. I reckon that's why Kyle and I didn't socialize as much recently, because he wanted someone who could drink like he could.

But he was a good fella. I remember him telling me about when Eric was courting him. I thought Eric was a peculiar choice for him, but I was happy that he was happy. But…. I guess he wasn't happy… He wasn't really happy at all. I really had no idea.

I grabbed a wad of tissues from my night stand and wiped my nose. I don't understand it. I want to, but I don't. All I know is that I'm sad. Really, really really sad. Kyle was a friend of mine.

Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
While I just sit and stare at you

Because I don't want to know

I didn't want to know
I just didn't want to know
I just didn't want

"You really didn't have to do that Kyle," I said, my eyes locked on his.

"I had to," He answered, his green eyes shining seriously. The sun was setting on Stark's Pond and the orange and pink tint reflected on him.

"No, you really didn't have to," I reiterated.

"I felt like I had to Stan," He answered. "At least, it felt like it was the only option I had left."

"But it wasn't," I said again, noticing the cold winter air coming out of my mouth.

"Seriously, Kyle. Why didn't you call me? You know I would've done everything I could to help you."

"Well, I think it's kinda weird to call someone that you haven't really spoken to in years to ask for help," the redhead replied. "You know we drifted apart those last few years. And it makes sense why, you and your beautiful family, great job… You were really going somewhere in life. But me on the other hand…" He dropped his gaze and stared at his clasped, gloved hands in his lap.

"Doesn't matter," I say, moving closer on the bench to him. "I still would've answered. I would've tried to help, tried to understand…"

Kyle slowly moves his eyes to my eyes.

"Stan."

He said my name softly, with a very light but warm smile on his face.

"I didn't want to bring you down."

The beautiful orange light shined perfectly on Kyle's freckled face, softening his features.

"Kyle…" I said, at a loss for words.

He took a breath in slowly. "Well," he said. "I need to get going now. Bye Stan,"

He got up from the bench and turned away, walking and disappearing into the woods.

"No! No Kyle, come back!"

I tried to get up from the bench, but for some reason I couldn't.

"Kyle! Don't go!"

"Stan—"

"Come back! Please Kyle!"

"Stan, babe—"

"No!"

"Stan, you're dreaming!"

I breathed heavily, feeling the familiar touch around my shoulders. I twisted my head to the side and saw Wendy's concerned face.

"Oh…" I emitted, not sure what to do now. I touched her face, then I touched mine. My cheeks were covered in tears.

"Are you okay?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

"Yeah…" I started, after quickly wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands. "Yeah, I'm okay." I slowly sit up and stretch. "I'm just going to get some water," I tell her. Wendy nodded her head and I slowly swung my legs over to my side of the bed, then grudgingly pushed myself off of the bed.

I grabbed my cellphone front my nightstand and turn on the flashlight. I quietly open the bedroom door, and walked as quietly as I could into the kitchen, to not wake the kids.

It's hard to believe that I have a beautiful 7 year old girl and then 4 year old twin boys. All together they're a handful, but they are so worth it. Wendy and I couldn't be more proud.

I grabbed a glass and got some crushed ice and water. I gingerly opened the door to the porch and closed it behind me. I took a few steps forward and leaned on the railing of our large, wrap-around porch. I drunk the water, my eyes still fixated on the stars. The stars were gorgeous and shining clearer than I have ever seen them before. It made me think about heaven, and hoping my friend was in a better place.

I think his life on earth was a living hell.

I don't know all the details, but I do know some things. I know that Kyle was anorexic when he was 19 and had to go to rehab. I know I visited him in rehab. I know he opened up about how he used to cut himself when he was 13, and how he eventually traded one vice for another. I know I encouraged him and I told him that he could do anything he put his mind too, especially getting better. I know he did get better. I know he graduated collage. I know he moved out of his parent's house and was self-sufficient.

And then, more recently because of social media, I know he started drinking. I know he partied a lot and didn't mind tagging himself with friends while they were going out. I know he came out. Eventually, I know he was in a relationship with Eric Cartman.

I don't know if that was the best choice for Kyle. We never talked on the phone. The occasionally text and Facebook message yes, but no real actual conversation. I had my doubts about this relationship with Cartman, but the last thing I wanted to do was discourage Kyle, especially after he had come such a long way.

What I do know about Kyle is that he was a very kind and sincere person. And we he loved someone, he loved someone completely with his whole heart. I did not know if Cartman would appreciate that, or if he was in it for the right reasons. I guess I'll never really know now.

Maybe I'll talk about it at the funeral with Kenny. I know Kenny kinda took my place after I got married, being his super best friend and all. But Kyle will always be my super best friend at heart.

Damn, Kyle. I'm really gonna miss you buddy.

Mistook their nods for an approval
Just ignore the smoke and smile

Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you

I snuck into the synagogue late, on purpose. It was packed, just like I thought it would be. It took fucking forever to find a place to park. The smell of flowers was overpowering and the sounds of crying were coming from all directions. After I quietly walked into the synagogue, I tucked myself away in a pew right up against the wall, and maneuvered over to the corner. The less I'm noticed, the better.

There were a couple of songs sang and words shared about the Jew. The rabbi said some generic bullshit, about how Kyle is in a better place now and blah blah blah. I wasn't really listening. I was trying to angle myself in a way where maybe, just maybe I could take a look at this face before they closed the coffin. It was from far away, but from what I could see, he still looked like himself. Shit, he even had color in his cheeks.

It's still hard to know if this shit really happened or not. And I still don't know what to think about this fucking mess. I remember our fights like it was just yesterday.

"I hurt myself, Cartman!" He would yell, eyes tearing up.

"Whether it's cutting, or starving myself, or just getting completely shit-faced, it's what I do! It's all I know."

I remembered staring at him, feeling defeated.

"That's pretty fucked up Kahl," I would say. "Maybe you should see a doctor about all that."

He scrunched his face and lifted a brow.

"Really, Cartman?" He deadpanned. "I've been seeing doctors. I've been taking meds. But it's not about all that," he breathed heavily. "Why don't YOU say anything about this? Why don't YOU care?!" His green eyes were fuming, almost like he had Jew hellfire in them.

I shrugged while I got a beer out of my fridge and used my keychain to open it.

"I'm not a fucking psychologist Kahl," I spat before I took a swing. "Whenever we started…. All THIS," I made a casual gesture, referring to our relationship. "I didn't sign up for all THAT," I said, referring to his psychotic issues.

I took another swig from my beer while the kike just stared at me, his eyes wide in shock like a deer in fucking headlines.

"You don't get it, do you?" He barely choked out while a single tear fell from his cheek.

No, I didn't get it. And I didn't want to get it. It's not that I didn't care. In fact, I was fucking crazy about the Jew. Shit, I always had a gay crush on him growing up, but I was too ashamed to admit it. Not that I was gay or anything, but that I liked him. When we started hanging out in collage and he told me that he was gay, I saw my chance, and I ran with it. If the daywalker was cute growing up, he was a goddamn knockout as an adult. I know the Jew got really sick before college, but I didn't care because he looked great when we were dating. Messy red hair that maintained itself, beautiful green eyes, thick jawbones, and a naturally built body emerged from the once-skinny, boyish frame. He was by far the best looking guy I ever fucked. And he surprised me and he told me it was first time, with me. Then Kahl was the only virgin AND the best looking guy I fucked. What more could I want?

Sure the sex was fucking amazing, but I remember seeing and feeling some weird scabs and wounds on his limbs. I didn't really think about, I mean, shit, everyone has battle wounds, right?

But as time went on the Jew became needier. His drinking became more often, and eventually we were fighting every fucking day. At first, I felt sorry for the kike. He had some serious issues, no shit. But eventually his "issues" became his crutch. It's like he would talk about cutting or losing weight or he would get as shit-faced as possible on purpose to try to punish ME, to make ME feel bad. After a while, you can't take that shit anymore. No one can. I mean, it's like he was expecting me to be his fix, his cure-all. Who the fuck would want that responsibility?

Now here I am, trying to not been seen at his funeral. I don't know how I feel. Anger. Sadness. Regret. Pain. Lots of goddamn pain.

I don't want to be seen because I know what the whole town thinks. I know they think it was all because of me. But the truth is, no one knew Kahl like I knew Kahl. He had these problems long before we starting dating. It's not my fault.

I take a deep breath as the ceremony is drawing to a close. Once they shut the coffin, I watch the all the pallbearers stand up and take their places on either side. Token, Clyde, Craig, Kenny, Butters, and Stan. They very slowly carried the black coffin down the isle. Then it fucking happened. Fucking Stan locked eyes with me. His eyes went from sadness to rage in less than a second. It was almost as if he were saying, "I want to fucking kill you," to me through his eyes. I felt paralyzed until they left. I stood there, several minutes after they were gone and while people were leaving the synagogue.

I don't really know what to fucking think about this shit. Like I mentioned earlier, it's still very hard to believe it's real, that the Jew fucking committed suicide.

I'm really sorry if I let you down, Kahl.

It's just…. I didn't want to know.

Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a perfect color for your eyes
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
Such a lovely color for you
Call it aftermath, she's turning blue
While I just sit and stare at you

I don't want to know