A/N: So I've never actually read a chapter-heavy fanfiction! Lol. Not for South Park anyway. This idea came to me kind of suddenly. The beginning was sort of based off of something between a few of my friends and I, in the humorous aspect of it all. XD But from there on it's obviously total fiction and the inside jokes end there.

Kind of a confusing start. I'm not even really that into Style, so I'm not really sure if I'm going to keep that the more canon pairing. Forgive me. I'll probably mix and match later on. But for now, enjoy, I guess. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I screened this for spelling and gramatical errors best I could, so... yeah. Onward!

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"There's something different about you."

Kenny's eyes searched me as he slammed his locker door shut with a half-balled hand, blue eyes squinting and critical from within the mess of his blond hair around his tanned face. I got the jitters instantly, and I tried to turn away to wrench open the door to my own rusting metal storage space, but I could still feel the middlest McCormick's eyes burning into the back of my neck. Maybe at the heat rising up into it, because as I tugged the tattered green hat I'd managed to scavenge along to the future with my childhood memories in tow out of my locker and dropped it onto my head, he pawed at the left side of my chest with his curved palm to get me to face him.

"You didn't do anything to your hair. Make up? Nah," he cupped my face in his palms and I tried to bat him away as the rosy tint to my cheeks undoubtedly drained out my freckles.

"Fuck off, Kenny!"

And then it seemed to click in Kenny's face.

"You're glowing."

His expression took the shape of pure surprise, taking on the appearance of a twelve-year-old girl who had just been told that she was marrying one of the Jonas brothers.

"Oh my God. Kyle. Kyle," his voice rose slightly, and his eyes shot over my shoulder as my face descended into both palms with embarrassment as Kenny shouted over my shoulder.

"You GUYS! KYLE'S NOT A VIRGIN ANYMORE!"

I could feel my dignity seeping into the drain in the middle of the hall as my face turned an off-shade of crimson that likely was running a competition with the colour of my hair. Snickers broke out from a few girls passing in the hallway, but the booming, now baritone voice of Eric Cartman could be heard behind me. The tender age of seventeen and a long-running four years of foot ball had turned the fatass into an absolute monster; what he'd had going for him in gradeschool width-wise had shot up with him in height in our first year of highschool and it had been revealed that he really was just big-boned, because god damn, he was huge. A fucking brick wall if anything, and it was scary as hell.

"What!? Fucking Jew couldn't get ass if he tried, what the hell are you on, Kinneh? Aside from Welfare?"

"Aw fuck off Cartman. I'm serious. Lookit 'im, dude. He's fuckin' glowing. He totally got rammed."

Kenny thrust my heated form around and I looked up to find Cartman staring at me with obvious suspicion, eyes flipping between my face and Kenny's like it was April first instead of December the eighteenth or something. Stan stood beside him looking calm and collected with an unlit cigarette waiting impatiently in the corner of his mouth as he let the conversation blow over. Yesterday had been my little brother's eleventh birthday, and I had spent the later part of it losing my virginity. The worse part was that the kid knew about it, and wasn't going to let me go about it. Ever. The son of a bitch was too smart for his own god damned good. It would have been a sin to be given a normal little brother, I swear.

"You do look kinda shiny. But I didn't look like a fucking faggot Jew when I first got laid, Kahl."

"I'm still in shock you actually get any at all, Fatass."

"Doesn't matter how much I get any, Kahl, you still look like a fuckin' fairy-ass faggot deflowered Jewrat."

"Fuck off, Cartman! I do not!"

"Oh, you kind of do," Kenny intervened, draping his arms around my shoulders. He stood at a good six foot something, where I lingered just under that mark, almost even with Stan, who was still idling a bit behind Cartman. I tilted my head to send Kenny a glare for backing up Cartman's hit. He simply grinned in that typically warm-hearted Kenny way and nuzzled against my cheek, totally rivalling my faggotry in every sense. Even Cartman pulled a face at the gesture as Kenny rested his hands on my hips from behind.

"So who's the lucky lay, Broflovski?"

I fell silent, and I swear to god, I didn't mean to do it. It was just a nervous reflex, and I automatically blinked my eyes away from the dark-haired male still standing silently beside Cartman as I look at him accidentally in time to catch him picking lazily at the top of his hand for whatever reason. The avoidance gave me dead away though, and Kenny's shriek of laughter almost deafened me. I flinched away as he threw his hands back from me in disbelief, staring between me and Stan, both of us by that point refusing to look at eachother at all. Cartman just gaped like his girlfriend just landed him a swift kick to the balls after he proposed to her or something.

"Stan? You and Stan are - holy shit! I knew it! That's twenty fuckin' dollars on my plate from you, Cartman!" Kenny's laughter drew attention from other people in the hallways, but they all looked on in more confusion or anything. Kenny's sanity was often questioned as it is, being that his frequent dying has sent him a bit over the edge from the ongoing years, but this laughter thing is entirely typical. He was killing himself as he leaned against the lockers and Cartman cussed a blue streak, punching his own. I covered my cheeks in embarrassment, but I felt an arm slide around me anyway, and Stan's mouth presses up against my cheek in a mirror to the way it had been in secret for the last month, and instantly, I felt better.