*beep* *beep* *beep*

Without lifting his face out of his pillow, Stan reached up a hand and slammed it down on the snooze button. For an extended moment he laid there, struggling to breathe through the fabric before finally rolling over onto his back, resting the back of his forearm against his forehead. He tilted his head slightly, peering out the window, It was a blizzard, in the middle of the day. The way the sun reflected off the white world outside compensated for the fact that Stan had all his lights turned off. He had them off for a reason, his head was killing him, and now the brightness from the window was doing the exact same thing, causing the pounding to rise up behind his eyes and in his temples.

"Well FUCK you, Kyle." …. "yeah, right here buddy"

Stan groaned and sat up, kicking his legs over the side of his bed and forced himself to his feet. He was so hung over, or maybe even still a little drunk from earlier but either way he was already regretting what he had said to Kyle.

"Kyle…I love you…You're a piece of shit though, Fuck you."

He walked into his bathroom, flipped the light switch, wincing as the light pooled over him. He washed his face anyways, glancing at himself in the mirror as the water dripped down his cheeks. He looked….he looked…sickly, yeah even he could tell the difference that had begun to show itself over a month ago, he just didn't look-happy, anymore. He wasn't happy.

"Look, Kyle..I'm just going to do my thing and you can do your thing, it's whatever."

"you don't really mean that...do you Stan?"

Everything hurt and the days had begun to run together and Stan had to check his cell phone to see what day it was. It was Sunday, tomorrow he wouldn't be able to sleep all day, he would have to get up and go to school and face all the people he had driven away…once again. It was worse than that though, he had driven away the most important person in his life, his 'Super Best Friend'.

After splashing his face and drying off with a towel Stan moved to sit back on his bed, staring out the window despite the pounding in his head. He was thinking about Kyle, that infuriating redheaded Jewish boy that was the catalyst for all of this. He sort of hated him….he really hated him, but at the same time…"Fuck." Stan grumbled as he opened the door to his bedroom, only to see his father bounding down the hall at full speed, nearly bowling him over.

Randy Marsh darted into the bathroom and slammed the door, leaving a great wind to sweep down the hall after him, nearly pushing Stan over for a second time. Stan shouldered his back pack and sighed heavily as her heard the deep guttural sounds of his father taking a dumb.

Stan walked downstairs and into the kitchen where his mother was making a late lunch. "Hello there, Stanly…you've been sleeping all day honey, are you hungry?" she asked, peeking over her shoulder as her boy slipped into a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the top of his head.

"Yeah." He admitted, "Starving."

"Well that's good because I made sandwiches." She said as she turned, setting a plate of bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches down on the table in front of the blue eyed teen. "Where is your father, Stanly?"

"Taking a shit." Why did she care, anyways, Kyle thought.

"Stanly!"

"Sorry…" He reached out and snatched a sandwich off the plate and took a bite, getting way too much mayonnaise. He crinkled his nose but continued chewing. He hated that his parents had moved back in with each other, it wasn't like they were back together.

"Shit, Shit, Shit. You know Stan, you really shouldn't curse so much, it's very unflattering. Shit is all you say these days can't you be a little more couth?" His mother said in exasperation, as she set a few clean dishes to dry beside the sink.

"Yeah, sorry mom." Stan said as he stood up, taking the portable meal with him. "I'm going down to the lake."

"Again?"

"Why not, it's Sunday?"

"Don't you have homework you should be doing."

"I have it with me." Stan said, turning to show the book bag hanging off his shoulder.

"Okay well dress warmly, your coat, gloves and hat are hanging by the door.

"I will." Stan promised, exiting the kitchen and heading for the door. He paused by the couch, and looked back at his mother, who had already gone back to her work. He knelt down and slid his hand underneath it and pulled out the nearly empty bottle of gin, and quickly shoved it into his back pack, glancing back at his mom one more time before continuing to the door.

He dropped his bag and pulled on his brown coat, buttoning it up to the second to last button before pulling his red poof-ball hat over his ears. He stuffed his mittens into the depths of his pockets and opened the door with his bare hand. The snow had begun to let up, now it ebbed gently from the pale sky. Stan kept his hands in his pockets and looked up into the snow as he walked, the wet flakes landing on his face as he made his way towards the lake.

On his way there he passed the bus stop, the place that he, Kenny, Cartman, and Kyle and met nearly every day for school for the last who knows how many years, since first grade maybe. Not only was it that but it was the place they had all met for the very first time. Although the time was hazy he could remember it clear as if it had happened yesterday.

"Hi, I'm Kyle."

"Hi, I'm Stan."

Stan shook his head, he didn't want to think about Kyle, he didn't want to think at all. Trying to hush his mind he quickened his pace past the stop and continued into town.

"Do you want to come play fireman with me?"

Stan gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly, trying to shake the thoughts from his mind. A snowflake landed on his nose and he reached up to wipe his away before reaching into his pocket for his cell phone. As he pulled it out, his fingers stumbled over the form and it fell from his hand into a puddle of slush.

"Oh you have got to be shitting me." Stan growled, bending down to pick it up, rubbing it against his coat, and desperately trying to dry it off. He hadn't even really needed to check his phone, he was just doing it out of habit, there really wasn't anyone he wanted to talk to. He flipped the top of his phone up, it was black for a little too long but finally the screen came up and Stan exhaled, his tense shoulders loosening. To his surprise there was a text message, it was from Wendy.

Stan frowned, he hadn't talked to Wendy since they broke up, two months ago. It was weird to be getting a text from her now, he was pretty sure she hated him. She had begged Stan for a reason why, but Stan had simply floundered, he tried to come up with something but the only thing that he could manage to say was, "It's just not going to work out. My heart isn't in it." It was a lame excuse, but it was the truth- at least in some ways. It just wasn't going to work out because he just didn't love Wendy.

Wendy: Hi Stan. Need 2 see you. Can we talk?

Stan stared at the message, his frown deepening. He sighed and closed his phone without responding, sticking it back into his pocket as he continued to walk. He really just didn't want to deal with her.

"Mrhm mmhr mhr mrh mhrruh"

Butter's blinked a few times as Kenny spoke to him, then looked at Kyle, and then back rolled his eyes away from the window, leaning over the table to yank Kenny's hood open.

"Butters, pass me the syrup." Kenny said, again pointing to the bottle at the edge of the table, this time his words not muddled by his hoodie. Butters slid it across to his with a smile.

"That's disgusting Kenny, syrup on bacon." Kyle wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in disgust.

"What? It's good!" he said, pouring the gooey liquid all over the thick crinkled strips. With a broad playful grin he broke off a soaked piece and shoved it into his open mouth, chewing loudly. Butters giggled nervously, looking between them before his attention was draw to something moving outside the window.

"Oh hey…isn't that Stan?" he asked watching as the dark haired boy, all bundled in his hat and coat, dropped his cell phone into a fresh puddle, "Oh gosh, that's too bad...he dropped his phone." He said, scratching behind his ear with his index finger. Kenny turned in his seat and looked outside,

"Aw fuck." He said, turning back around. He wasn't cursing at the bad luck Stan was having with his phone, he was cursing, knowing that Stan being this close by meant that Kyle was certainly going to have to do something about it. Kenny's mouth tightened, "So…yeah you should try the bacon it's-" trying to distracted the red head who had perked up like a groundhog and was now already half-way standing up out of his seat, looking out into the snow where Stan was.

"- Butter's get up," Kyle interrupted Kenny and pushed his hands against Butters shoulder, forcing the small her boy out of his seat, nearly rolling the tiny thing right onto the floor.

"-o-o-kay." Butters allowed himself to be shoved out from the seat and pushed to the side. Kenny, fast as a snake, threw out and arm and caught him by the shoulder before the other blond could smack his tail bone against the tiles. Butters gave hooded hero a shy thank-you smile before righting himself. as Kyle rounded the table as he headed for the door. Kenny reached up, lifting slightly out of his seat as he caught Kyle by the hand, his reflexes – the product of dodging near fatal accidents on a regular basis- were really coming in handy at this moment.

"Dude…don't do this…don't do this to yourself…" Kenny's tone was pleading, and as Kyle looked down into the light blue eyes of his blond friend he knew that Kenny was just thinking about what was best for him, after all in the last few months every encounter Kyle had with Stan had left him miserable and it was almost always Kenny who ended up having to pick up the broken pieces of Kyle and help glue them all back into the right place. Kyle couldn't help but think that Kenny's eyes were also telling him, "don't make me see you all broken up again, it's not fair. You look like a girl when you cry and I have to force myself not to molest you!" Kenny attempted to insert a little humor, a last ditch effort in trying to distract the redhead.

Kyle's brows drooped a little, shadowing his bright green hews. "Sorry, Kenny…I have to."

Kyle tugged himself free of Kenny's grasp and pushed open the door, taking a moment to pause and lean back into the diner a bit, "and I do NOT look like a fucking girl when I cry." And wit that jogged down the stairs towards Stan's retreating form, leaving an awkwardly uncomfortable Kenny alone with Butters. As he neared, he raised a hand and called out.

"Stan! Hey, Stan, wait up!"

Stan paused, and turned, hands still in his pocket, brow scrunched in confusion. Of all the people to see just then, he had not expected it to be Kyle, but he knew the other boys voice and it sent an ice-pick stabbing through his heart.

"Oh…hi, Kyle." Stan said, standing there as Kyle came to a stop a few feet from him, bending over, trying to catch his breath. The tension that rose up from them was immediate. From Stan's side there was a darkness that writhed and coiled about his form, and from Kyles side was a pounding nervous sort of energy that sparked and flickered. The two powers seemed to collide within the space between then, silently wrestling for the duration of the moment.

"Hey man, where you going?" Kyle asked, panting slightly, reaching up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffed, the cold seeming through his pores. Stan didn't respond right away, instead he looked Kyle over first. He looked a lot different than the little boy he had first met at the bus stop. Kyle was tall, his lean figure complimented his elegant, almost feminine jaw line and upturned nose, the top of which was speared with freckles from ear to ear. His bright green eyes were always clear, unlike Stan's deep blues that often looked stormy. Kyle's auburn hair fell in soft wavy coils around his face, unruly but still flattering even when most of it was stuffed up under his green ushanka, like it was today.

"I'm….fine." Stan lied, peeling his eyes away from the other boy.

"Well why don't you come eat with us, it's me Kenny and Butters."

Stan raised a dark brow, "You guys hang out with Butter's now?"

"Well no, not usually but he looked sort of lost so…." Kyle let out an unconvincing laugh and straightened himself up, having caught his breath.

"Oh. Okay."

"So what do you say, will you eat with us?" Kyle asked again, putting on his most winning smile. Stan looked back up at him and his shoulders hunched up a bit from tension.

"Um..no, I don't think so. I have…things to do." Stan finally said, turning on his heels.

"Oh come on, Stan, like what?" Kyle challenged, reaching up to put a hand on his retreating friends shoulder, forcing Stan to stop his escape turn. Kyle let go and looked into the deep blue pools of Stan's eyes and he could see pain, a lot of pain. Stan jerked away from Kyle's grip as if the touch burned him, only the burn didn't show up on his shoulder, instead it flared up beneath his eyes and along the bridge of his nose in the form of a subtle blush.

"I just have to…I should be going." Stan said, breaking their stare.

"Oh come on, Stan! You don't have anywhere to be. Do you? You're just running away again!"

Stan's mouth tightened and he glared at the ginger, "I do so…have a somewhere to be."

"Okay, where then."

"I'm going to the lake."

"Oh and what are you going to do at the lake?"

"Homework."

"Homework? Really? That's what's so important that you can't spend time with your super-best friend?" Kyle's tone was growing more and more exasperated.

"Well, we all can't be geniuses-and get by without studying like you do, Kyle." Stan snapped, making Kyle's who face scrunch up in discontent.

"Give me your bag." The angry Jew demanded.

"...What?"

"I said…give me your bag. Let me see what's in your bag.? Kyle stretched out a hand, extending his fingers.

"What? No!" Stan barked, shouldering away.

"I want to see what's in your bag, Stan!" Kyle twisted his wrist and snatched the strap of Stans bag off of his shoulder, tugging it towards him. Stan reached out as well, catching the side of the bag before it was yanked free from his hand.

"Give me back my bag, what the Fuck Kyle!"

Kyle didn't hesitate and quickly unzipped the largest part of the bag and reached inside. He could feel several books, what felt like a spiral notebook and yes…a bottle. He pulled it out and dropped the rest of the bag into the snow.

"Is this is, Stan?" Kyle asked, waving the near empty bottle of gin in front of him, "Is this what's more important than you're friends, then me? Is this the reason you've abandoned everyone?" Kyle's voice sounded hurt, accusatory, and angry all at once.

Stan tried to snatch the bottle out of Kyle's hand but missed. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Kyle!"

"You're a fucking addict, Stan! You need some god-damned help!" Stan reached for it Kyle wrenched it out of his reach again, and this time he hurled it out into the snow, where the bottle slammed against the bulk of a tree and shattered.

"What the FUCK, KYLE! Fuck you man! I'm not an addict! It just helps me get through the days in this shit hole of a town! This place is bucket of piss to drown rats in!"

"Oh I don't know what I'm talking about? Well I'm not the one who hasn't got any friends left and just mopes around like some faggy Goth kid…damn it, Stan, at least the Goth kids have each-other! We used to have each-other! What happened Man, when did you start hating me?"

Stan's gaze contorted and his fists clenched. "Things…things just change, Kyle, you need to get over it."

Kyle shook his head, "No, Stan. This is just fucked up. You can't just stand there and tell me that you don't care anymore!"

Stan and Kyle stood there, staring at each other, both with fire, rage in their eyes, their chests rising and falling heavily with the intensity of their argument.

"Kyle…I just can't.." Stan forced the words out between his teeth.

"You just can't what?"

"I just can't be around you!"

"Why, Why not? What did I ever do to you besides try and be your friend?"

"I don't want to be FRIENDS…" Stan's voice came out strangled, desperate even- the expression evident in his distressed eyes. "I can't explain it! I just can't. Everyone is better off without me around anyways. Just do yourself a favor, Kyle, and stay the hell away from me."

"Stan…" Kyle's couldn't believe Stan had really just come out and said it…he didn't want to be friends with him anymore."please…" Once again Kyle reached up and grabbed Stan's shoulder. "Here…at least take this…" Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Call this number…just…call it." Stan, almost without thinking, took the piece of paper as it was handed to him, and with that Kyle loosened and then removed his grip, turned and headed back towards the diner.

Stand looked after the redhead, his heart pounding like a hammer in his chest, his fingers clutching the paper. As he watched the back of Kyles head disappear through the door he followed the length of the restaurant, seeing Kenny and Butters staring at him through the window. Stan dropped his eyes and turned around, unfolding the paper. It was a number, and bellow it were scribbled the words

[Denver AA coordinator, Leon Silvers] Stan looked over his shoulder, watching Kenny patting a distressed looking Kyle on the back. He looked away and shoved the number into his pocket.