After working on my other story for so long, I decided to do this quick short for a change in pace and because it was stuck in my head and I didn't know what to do with it. Everything in italics is a flashback. Hope you enjoy this short and please review. I'm not sure what genre to put this under so I will just leave it in general for the moment unless someone knows what I should put it under. Anyways, enjoy and review, and if you have time or are interested, I have two South Park horror stories posted for anyone who would want to read them. This story is marked as complete, but if I have any more one-shot ideas, I will most likely add them to this. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or the song I Hate Everything by George Strait.

My New Best Friend (Kyle's POV)

"Stan, I need to tell you something." I said nervously, feeling the beating of my heart pounding against my chest.

"Sure Kyle, what is it?" Stan asked, as he bore his eyes into my soul. I gazed down to the floor, not being able to meet those sparkling blue eyes. It had been two three since I, Kyle Broflovski, had discovered my love for Stan surpassed that of any friendship. It had taken me days just to build up the courage to tell him. And so here I stood, hoping for the best and preparing for the worst.

"Um, could we maybe talk in your room?" I asked as I soon realized that we were still in Stan's living room and I wasn't about to allow more than one person hear this, at least not yet.

"Sure Kyle. Is something wrong?" Stan asked gently.

"N-No, I'm fine." I replied as Stan led me towards the stairs. We began our climb towards his room and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. I told myself to stop being so nervous, but the thoughts didn't help at all.

We reached Stan's room after what felt like hours of climbing, when the trip only lasted about a minute or so. Entering the room, I closed the door behind me and seated myself on the bed. Stan stood confused; he stared me up and down and was obviously worried.

"Dude, seriously, what is wrong?" he cut straight to the point after a long silence, and I was glad he had done so. If this silence would have stretched out any further, I would have exploded.

"Stan, what if I was to tell you," I glanced up into his big blue eyes, "that I love you."

Stan walked over to me and dropped himself onto the bed right beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and it was only then that I realized that I had been shaking. "Kyle, you're my super best friend. I know that you love me, and you should know that I love you."

I shifted uncomfortably under his arm. God, this was so much harder than what I had expected it to be. "Stan, that's not what I mean. What I meant to say was that I am in love with you."

He looked back at me in pure shock, "You mean you're . . ."

"Gay Stan, it means I'm gay." I averted my eyes from his. I felt the bed shift as Stan got to his feet to face me. I glanced up to find him staring at me from across the room. "Listen Stan, I'm sorry but I had to tell you. I . . ."

"Kyle? You're gay, for me?" His voice faltered as he eyed my every move.

I finally came to my senses and got to my feet but continued to avoid his watchful eyes, "Stan listen, I know it must sound crazy but if you could let me explain how I've felt since I found out . . ."

"Get out."

I finally met his eyes, horrified, "What?"

He lifted his arm, pointed directly at the door, and repeated, "Get. Out."

I couldn't let it end like this. I had to try to help him understand, "Please Stan, if you'll just give me a chance to . . ."

"Now." His voice gone cold, I could tell it was over. My gaze dropped to the floor and I began walking out of the room. Tears streaming down my face, I knew I was only moments away from crying. I stopped at the door when I heard Stan call my name. Stopped dead in my tracks, I refused to turn around, waiting for the flicker of hope that had been dangling in my chest.

"Yes Stan?"

"I'm sorry it has to be this way Kyle, but I could never love you that way."

A small tear slipped down my cheek as I responded, "I-I understand."

"Now leave."

I remember running as fast as I could from that house and never looking back. It hadn't taken long after that day that Stan left for Chicago with his family. That was five years ago. Now I live in the very house that I ran from.

I can't let the memories leave me, but yet I cry every day when I return to this house in South Park. So I go to the bar every night and talk to my new friend. I'm heading there right now, as we speak.

But tonight is special. Tonight we celebrate the day that we first met, way back five years ago after Stan broke my heart. No matter how I feel, no matter what I say, he listens to me and makes me laugh. We spend all night in there, and no matter what time I arrive, he will be there for me. Of course, my family won't talk to me now that I see him. They think he is a bad influence, but how can he? I've spent my whole life loving Stan, and what does he do, he leaves me and my crushed heart for the buzzards. If anything, my parents should be proud that I found someone to talk to.

Anyways, I'm just arriving at the bar. I walk through the double doors and into an open room with chairs and tables. I find myself a stool close to the bartender and next to a man with blonde hair. His cloths are baggy and show heavy wear. Of course, he is here every night.

"Hello Kyle, the usual?" the bartender asks swiftly.

"Yep." I say as I wait patiently for the drink. I glance over to the man sitting next to me and he gives me an awkward smile. I smile back and the bartender returns with a bottle and shot glass, to which I respond with a twenty. As always, music plays in the background while I take my first drink. But the song that plays sends chills down my spine as I listen to the chorus.

I hate my job

And I hate my life

If it weren't for my two kids, I'd hate my ex-wife

I know I should move on

And try to start again

But I just can't get over her, leaving me for him

And then he shook his head and looked down at his ring

An' said I hate everything

I look to my friend and say, "They're playing our song." This exact song played the night I met him. I'm surrounded by the surrealism of the whole situation. It feels like that day five years ago when I entered this very bar with a fake ID at the age of sixteen. I look to one who has helped me through life over these past few years and strike up a conversation. He listens as I talk, just like always.

I spend the next few hours retelling my story to my best friend. He listens intently as I describe my feelings for the man I used to love.

I notice the blonde man looking at me and he says, "Yeah, life is tough." All the time I spent coming here, I never gave thought to asking the man's name and here we are again.

"I could never love another person the way I loved Stan." I finally say and notice that the blonde man sitting next to me had just gotten up to leave. Of course, it means that I have to leave as well. I have work in the morning. I get up to leave, knowing that I shall return tomorrow night. But for now, the bartender simply smiles at me and places my best friend on the shelf, knowing that tomorrow, I shall return to talk to him. Because he's my best friend, and his name is Jack Daniel's.

The End