A/N: I HAVE EDITED THE CHAPTERS. THINGS HAVE BEEN ADDED/CHANGED AND TYPOS HAVE BEEN FIXED. YOU MAY WANT TO RE READ.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or any of the characters mentioned.

EDITED: MAY 19TH 2015

"Kyle."

The name being called out was barely audible, blocked out by the swarming frustrated thoughts that clouded his senses.

What. The. Fuck. Why was this goddamn equation so hard to figure out? Fucking seriously, what was so different-

"Kyle, dude."

Kyle, still only vaguely aware of the voice, ignored the call once more. Couldn't whoever the fuck it was see that he was busy? After all, this equation wasn't going to solve itself.

"Kyyyyyle."

But honestly, who kept repeating his name like a broken record?

"Ky-"

Kyle's head quickly snapped up from its lowered position, and furious green eyes glared into dark blue.

"What the fuck do you want, Stan?" Kyle cried out, clearly annoyed.

His Super Best Friend, Stan Marsh, threw his hands up as if to say "chill out, dude!" and warily eyed the several pieces of white paper, which littered the area around Kyle completely.

"Kyle, seriously, do you ever give yourself a break from all this work?"

The redhead scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Stan, it never hurts to on top of your school work."

"I think it does, when it results in you having absolutely zero social life."

Kyle shot him another angry look, making it slightly obvious that Stan had hid some sort of nerve. "I do too-"

"Stan, fucking seriously, what is taking you so long? You two aren't fagging around in there, are you?"

They both turn their heads at the unpleasant sound of Cartman's complaint to find him accompanied by Kenny in the doorway.

"Fuck you, fatass," Kyle dead panned.

"Don't call me fat, you good for nothing Jew! Seriously, Kyle, can't you come up with something other than 'fatass?'"

As per usual, the two other members of the small group of friends sat in silence and witnessed this argument that seemed to reoccur daily, until a low chuckle emitted from none other than Kenny McCormick.

Kyle's angry eyes fixed on the skinny blonde, then seemed to cloud over with confusion. "What are you laughing at, Kenny?"

Kenny continued to smirk playfully at Kyle, even as the frustrated redhead threw himself out of his chair. Unfortunately Kyle had forgotten about the excessively overstuffed backpack of his and inwardly scolded himself before he realized he had tripped over it, and he was falling. Accepting his fate, he braced himself for the collision, though whatever he crashed into was a loft softer than the floor. Kyle quickly realized that he had been caught and raised his head to express his gratitude, stopping cold when he felt hot breath hit the side of his face.

"You're really hot when you're angry," his savior mumbled into his ear, voice husky and guttural as he proceeded to playfully pinch Kyle's behind.

And, wow, Kyle thought as those words sent a blazing shiver down his spine and shoot straight to his - oh. Oh.

Kyle was dimly aware of who he further recognized to be Kenny pulling his toned face away, in order to observe Kyle's reaction, and of the smirk he wore on his lips. "That's all."

Kyle's face was nearly as red as his hair in that moment, and he opened his mouth to reply, only for nothing to come out. But, okay, one question. Why was he getting so worked up over one of his best friends calling him hot? It's not as if Kenny was serious. Like, come on, Kenny would hit on anything with a heartbeat. But, really, Kyle thought, it was the way he said it. The thought of Kenny's hot breath against his skin re-entered his mind and, wow okay this was definitely not going to help. What was wrong with him?

It was silent for a moment, and Kyle was still in the process of forming a reply before Cartman burst out in obnoxious laughter.

"You are such a fag, Kenny!"

"Cartman, shut up, for once," Stan demanded, evidently bothered by the teen's use of the word.

"No, no. I should really be laughing at Jewboy for . . ."

Kyle's attention was torn away from Cartman when Kenny uttered his name.

"Kenny?" he offered back.

He heard Kenny chuckle softly before shifting his thigh only slightly, before it distinctly brushed against his groin, earning a delighted sigh from the redhead. Oh. Fuck. Shit. He was hard. He was hard, in Kenny's arms and if it wasn't already fucked up, he was hard and it was Kenny's fault.

Kyle sputtered out at weak apology before forcefully wrenching himself free from Kenny's grip. Before Kenny could even think about protesting, Kyle rushed out into the hall.

You see, the thing is:

Kyle wasn't gay.

And, don't take it the wrong way, he was no homophobe or anything. Especially considering that Kenny (his best fucking friend) claimed to be bisexual, which was perfectly okay. However, some thought otherwise, that is, about him being bi. The fact was that it was rumored he had fucked twice the amount of guys as he had girls and sucked cock on more occasions than anyone could count. But, really, that was also perfectly okay. And anyway, if Kyle was gay, would it really be for Kenny? Sure, Kenny was attractive enough. He had eventually outgrown his habit of constantly wearing his hood, so his entire face was completely visible but until today, Kyle had never been bothered to see. And Kyle finally understood what was so compelling about Kenny to everyone. His eyes were so blue, Kyle thought. You could get lost in those. But, wait, why was he thinking about that?! Before ten minutes ago, he'd never dared to have such thoughts. Kyle growled and kicked the bathroom wall - hard. A little too hard, maybe, because a jolt of pain coursed through his entire leg and as he swore loudly as the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut and locking echoed off the tiled walls.

When Kyle turned to address the sound, he came face to face with those stupid. Blue. Eyes.

"Ken, what are you doing?" Kyle asked, a bit wary.

"Well, you left your huge-as-fuck backpack in study hall when you ran off, so I came to return it. Second, I came to clear something up."

"And that would be?" Kyle was absolutely sure he could hear his heartbeat in his ears and, was that supposed to happen? Why was it happening, anyway?

Kenny just stared at him for a moment before simply stating, "I don't mind that you got hard off what I said, or whatever."

"What?" It was supposed to come out sounding like "are you out of your fucking mind?", really, but it sounded small and scared.

"And, I wasn't joking." Kenny smiled that stupid smile of his and took a bold step closer. "You are hot when you get angry."

"Fuck you, Kenny. Can you leave now, please?"

And seriously, what the actual fuck? Kenny just burst out laughing and stepped even closer to the Jew. "So you choose to acknowledge that comment by getting angry with me?"

"Kenny, seriously. I kind of just want to be alone-"

"To take care of your problem, yes I know." Kenny gave Kyle a suggestive look, "I could help, you know."

Kyle glared at him. "Kenny, I don't know why you're still here or what you're even talking about. I just need to be alone right now."

Kenny held his arms up in surrender. "Alright, alright. But you're missing out on the most amazing blowjob you could have ever received."

Fucking pervert.

"Kenny. Leave." Kyle was literally trembling and if this kid took another step closer, he'd likely collapse.

Eventually, the blonde did leave him alone so that he could fix his "problem."

And no, he totally did not think about what it would actually be like to have those lips wrapped around him.

Wow, was he fucked.

"So," Kenny drawled out, as he reached over and snatched one of Cartman's fries, "I've heard that Token's throwing a killer party tonight."

The four of them were now sitting in the cafeteria. And everything was, for the most part, back to normal. Normal, if you decide to overlook the fact that Kyle had just jacked it to his best friend in the boy's bathroom. Fuck.

Cartman violently smacked at Kenny's hand. "Course he is," he muttered, "the fucker's rich. His parents throw parties practically every weekend."

"Yeah, except this time, his parents won't be there. It's not one of those boring fancy parties with the tiny sandwiches and shit. And," he paused dramatically, "we'll all be fucking loaded with all the booze we can - or can't - stomach."

Really, Kyle's interest in parties was nonexistent. He really didn't see the point in getting so drunk you could barely stand or so stoned you started seeing dragons. Because, seriously, was there one?

"I'm not interested," Kyle muttered as he stabbed his fork into his mashed potatoes.

Kenny frowned dramatically, and stared at Kyle intently. "Come, Kyle."

"Ken, I really don't want to. I don't really like parties. Besides, I have homework."

"Pretty please, Kyle?" Kenny batted his - long, Kyle had noticed- eyelashes.

"Just come, Kyle! We'll be with the the entire time, you'll be fine," Stan insisted.

And maybe it was that Kyle realized he was in need of a break from school work.

Because it definitely wasn't those blue eyes staring at him or those dreadful eyelashes.

Kyle sagged his shoulders, nodding in defeat.

"Yes! Okay," Kenny turned to Cartman and stared at him expectantly, "and you, fatass?"

Cartman rolled his eyes and spat his chewed up chicken in Kenny's face. "Yes, I'm in. Douchebag."

Kyle watched in amusement as Kenny clapped his hands excitedly. "This is going to be fucking awesome!"

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