Hello!! '-'soni13'-' again. Here's another random little oneshot, written by us. Once again, the.amethyst.alchemist wrote Kyle's parts; I wrote Stan and Kenny.

Hope you enjoy our story!

DISCLAIMER: don't own. nope. no own.

Stan Marsh was dead. Kyle sat on his couch, their couch, face buried in his hands, rough material scratching at his back. The funeral... god, the funeral. He hadn't been able to watch.

And it was his fault, too. He'd been driving. And Stan had wanted to that day. Nineteen and he'd just gotten his license, but Kyle insisted he drive.

So it was his fault.

All his fault.

Begin Flashback

"Hey dude." Stan said, looking up from his place on the ground. Shattered glass twinkled all around them, like the stars in the sky above, watching over them. The remains of their car rested off to the right, twisted and steaming.

Kyle blinked, clearing the fog from his mind and sight. He shifted, glass pouring off him. "Wha- Stan!" he yelled, spotting his boyfriend. "What the hell happ-" But he knew what had happened.

Stan's head was pounding, his abdomen had never hurt so goddamn much before. Glancing down, he realized why he was in such pain.

Kyle's eyes ran over his boyfriend's body. "Jesus fucking Christ..." he muttered in horror.

Stan had a piece of the door protruding from his stomach.

"Ohshitohshit..." he murmured to himself, taking his shirt off and shredding it, pressing it around the wound.

"This? Aw dude, it's no--" Stan's words were cut off, and his face twisted in pain. "Dammit!" Kyle yelled as fresh blood poured out. He spotted a woman pulling over. "Call 911!" he called, feeling helpless. "Please!"

Stan could hear Kyle's voice, but he couldn't tell what he was saying. It didn't help matters that his boyfriend's face was blurring. He reached up tentatively, because he needed to know that Kyle was still there. Kyle's face was wet, and not just from blood.

Stan's hand was eerily cold as it brushed along Kyle's cheeks, taking sweat and blood and tears along with it. The redhead blinked, trying to slow his crying, but couldn't. He watched the woman snap her cell shut. "They'll be here soon," he murmured, leaning close to Stan. "Promise."

"'Course they will. You can always rely on adults. Jesus Christ dude, didn't you learn anything from growing up in South Park?" Stan's words were teasing, but his breathing was getting heavier, slower, like he was falling asleep.

Kyle laughed, but it was forced. "Yeah..." He caught sight of Stan's closing eyes and shook him lightly, trying not to disturb his wound. "Come on, man, you gotta stay awake."

"Yeah, I know..." Stan's hand slid to the back of Kyle's neck, still not wanting to let go of the only thing that was keeping him here. "I love you Kyle."

Kyle let the tears stream freely, leaning down over Stan's neck.

"I love you too."

End Flashback

Kyle leaned back, head resting against the couch.

"Hey dude." Kenny McKormick said as he sat down next to him. Even today, of all days, he had a hoodie on. It was appropriately black, but still. "How're you holding up?"

"Not well..." I gave him a "What do you expect?" glare, but he shrugs it off.

"Come on, man. It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was." How can Kenny even consider it? He dies every other day and then there he is at the bus stop. Like nothing ever happened.

Kenny stared at the opposite wall, but Kyle knew he was seeing something else. "You know, it's...not so bad, on the other side."

Kyle whirled on him. "Goddammit, it's not the same for him! You just spring back into fucking life, and he's stuck there!" And I'm stuck here.

Kenny looked straight into Kyle's forest green eyes. "So, this is what Stan would want? For you to mope around and blame yourself, when it's not your fucking fault?"

"What do you mean it's not my fault?!" Kyle roared, grabbing Kenny by his shirt collar and shoving him into the wall. "I was driving! And he wanted to!" He broke down slowly, feeling the pieces of him hit the floor. His anger cooled abruptly as he leaned his head against Kenny's chest. "But I wouldn't let him..."

Kenny wrapped his arms around his friend's shoulders reassuringly. "Play along with me here. Let's say you let Stan drive. Let's say you two still got in an accident. And let's say that you're the one that didn't make it, and Stan is the one that's sitting here, blaming himself. Now, what would want to tell Stan at this very moment?"

Kyle blinked. "Stop being a goddamn selfish bastard."

Kenny reached down and grabbed Kyle's chin, gently though, and lifted it so that Kyle was looking at him. "Kyle Broflovski, stop being a goddamn selfish bastard."

Kyle laughed, closing his eyes. "...Thanks, Kenny."

"Anytime, dude."

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