A/N: Okay, I had finished this a while ago, but I keep adding more and more details to it. I hope it's a satisfying read for you guys! :D

It had been a few days since Stan's visit to Stark's pond. Now, the raven haired boy was held up in his bedroom, tossing his football towards the ceiling and catching it in his firm calloused hands. He was irrefutably bored out of his mind. Stan, being very dependent, could only find enjoyment when he was around other people. Now, it was his last day of summer and he was awake too early to hang out with anyone. All of his friends would be out cold until noon, but thanks to Stan's old habit of waking up at the crack of dawn for sports practice, he was wired to be up at first light. The teen rubbed the leather of the football one last time before laying it down on his bedside desk. He stood, stretching long muscular limbs over his head. Football had done his body good as he was now lean and strong. Much more so than most kids in his grade; he would never admit it, but he was a very attractive young man. With his looks, he didn't have trouble hooking up with girls; most of the time it was Wendy Testaburger, his on and off again girlfriend since they were in middle school. He loved her hypnotic curves, her long dark charcoal colored hair, and her stunning hazel eyes. But sex appeal was all she could offer Stan, because due to her hectic schedule, she wouldn't allow herself to become a full time thing. Wendy had compromised to being a usual fling, even humbly allowing Stan to try branching out to different girls, none of which could hold his consideration very long. He was very particular and he just couldn't find that special attachment. An attachment that he'd only been able to have with Wendy, his friends, and particularly a red haired Jew.

He reached for his phone, hopelessly checking to see if Kyle had finally gotten up with him. Nothing. Only Snapchats that Clyde had sent of himself on the toilet. Stan shuddered and messaged him how much of a sick fuck he was before sighing deeply at the thought that maybe… Kyle didn't want to talk to him anymore. Perhaps he didn't lose his phone this time and was moving on with his life, finally forgetting South Park; something he always said he'd do. The awareness was heartbreaking and he could feel the hairs on his body stick straight up and his heart sank into his gut. He shook his head profusely, letting black strands fall into his face. He didn't like it when his mind started making shit up and he knew that the only way to stop his paranoid brain ramblings was to get up and be with someone. Part of Stan's major personal flaw was that he couldn't handle his feelings when was upset, and became addictive to having other people take his mind off of it for him.

Stan quickly scrolled through his contacts until his came across Kenny McCormick's number. He hadn't seen his blonde haired, potty mouthed friend in a few days. Kenny was working a lot repairing cars, trying to make rent every month. Earlier this year when he had turned eighteen, Kenny persuaded Craig to move in with him at one of South Park's small but decent looking apartment complexes. Stan was relieved for him, his upbringing wasn't the most suitable for children or even adults for that matter.

Stan pressed the call button, wondering if he was even up yet. It was a bit of a long shot as he knew how Kenny was, but with any luck perhaps he hasn't even gone to sleep yet. He listened to the dial tone patiently, pulling out a clean shirt from his dresser drawer. A small click and cool voice drifted into the speaker. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Not much, dude. Wanna hang out today?" Stan asked as he slipped off the tank top he'd slept in, his body illuminated by the sunlight pouring into his room from the frost covered window. The invading cold air circling his body gave him chills.

"Sounds good. Come over whenever." Kenny hummed, wind rattling through the phone. Stan figured he was outside smoking again. His apartment had a patio and Kenny's favorite pastime was to relax on it, taking long drags of his Marlboros.

"Alright, I'm about to leave." Stan ended the call and set the phone back down. He started to change into his pants when immediately his cell vibrated against the table. Thinking Kenny had forgotten something, he casually picked it up. However, the number was not his friend's, but one he had not seen before. Stan scoffed, ignoring it. "Fuck you, no name."

Stan's house wasn't too far from Kenny's apartment, it was only about an 8 minute drive. The complex was quiet, nothing he would expect Kenny to live in. Stan closed his truck door and mechanically walked his way towards Kenny's first floor apartment, footsteps unsettlingly loud against the slosh covered pavement. Reaching the door he gave a quick knock out of his habitual good nature. He knew neither Kenny nor Craig would answer the door unless they'd order take out. Shaking his head Stan turned the knob and entered through the threshold.

Ironically, Kenny's apartment was always clean, which could be argued that it was because he didn't enough stuff to make a mess. If you knew the pervert as a child, you would remember his torn down dump by the railroad tracks. When he moved out it was revealed that he didn't have a lot of possessions, just a few clothes and magazines. The clutter from his parent's house was mostly beer bottles and trash bags. It was Craig who had brought the couches in the living room and possibly even the television, and that was all. It was bleak to say the least, but definitely an improvement from the previous McCormick residence.

Stan made a B line to the patio opening the sliding doors and revealing the blonde haired, ragged soul nestled into a broken apart bench. Wearing a torn white t-shirt, ripped up jeans, and just as Stan thought, a Marlboro was dangling carelessly from his lips. Blue, tired eyes shifted their stare towards Stan. "Hey dude, pull up a seat."

"Thanks," Stan replied, sitting across from him in a paint peeled wooden chair. "Ready for senior year?"

"Ecstatic." Kenny took a long inhale from his cig, letting the smoke heal him in a terrible way, and then exhaling it towards the sky.

Stan smiled, taking out his own carton, seeing the black smoke rise to the sky made his body ache with the desire to have it inflate his lungs.

"Where's Craig?" Stan asked as if he didn't already know.

"Still sleeping."

"Lazy fuck."

Kenny chuckled and agreed with half lidded eyes. It certainly did seem that Kenny hasn't slept yet. "You playing football this year?"

"Nah," Stan shrugged. "It was too stressful. Kind of want my last year to be enjoyable. I want to at least see my friends this year before we all go into different directions."

Kenny nodded, knowing that when Stan did play, he was always under so much pressure as the school's star quarterback. He was rarely around, taking extra time to be prepared for games and doubling up on practice. He was better off playing his music anyway.

"With the way you smoke now, you'd probably just pass the fuck out." Kenny smirked. "Thought you had asthma. Don't die on me, you can't come back."

"I haven't had an episode since I was like 8." Stan chuckled, biting down on the butt of his cigarette. Stan liked it when it was just him and Kenny talking like this. It was a piece of his insane childhood that he didn't absolutely hate.

They continued rambling for a while longer, about school, weird shit that seemed to mostly happen to the elementary school kids, and about where life would take them after this year. Neither one of them knew the answer to the latter. Stan figured that Kenny would just continue to work as a mechanic, skipping college completely. When Kenny was dating Kyle, the blonde did very well in school, trying to make sure that he could follow his boyfriend to Denver after high school, and Kyle was always pushing and nagging him to study more when he felt that he was slacking off. However, that plan had burned to flames and Kyle would probably attend college in New York, without Kenny or even Stan. The academy he was currently enrolled in was supposed to help their graduates get into prestigious schools to become doctors, or lawyers, or astronauts, or some shit. Stan smirked at the thought of Dr. Broflovski.

During their drabbles Stan noticed a newly awake Craig, slug through the living room from his lair, feet too tired to even lift from the carpet. The raven haired boy was about to greet his grumpy friend when he was halted by sudden a vibration from his phone. Frantically, he retrieved the device before groaning at the unrecognized number again. "Dude, I don't know who this is." He stared, eyes narrowing at the numbers as if the name would reveal itself if he looked hard enough.

"Well, answer it." Kenny shrugged, smoke spilling from his lips. "Just hang up if it's some pervert asking for pictures of your cock. Or throw him a bone. Literally."

Stan grimaced at the thought and answered his phone on its last ring. "Hello?" He said almost irritable, not to sound too willing to talk just in case it was a stranger or telemarketer.

"Stan?" Came a familiar and delightful voice. A voice that Stan had listened to many times, ranting, protesting… laughing. A voice that had called out to him in life and death situations. A voice that he had been longing to hear from. A voice that belonged to the best friend he'd ever had.

He was so surprised that he couldn't respond, his body just stiffened and a confused Kenny quirked an eyebrow. "Stan, are you there?"

"Kyle!" Stan shouted instinctively, his eyes shifted back and forth as excitement filled them to the brim. Stan quickly felt a small pang of guilt, drum against his chest upon seeing Kenny's fallen face. It looked like a mixture of dejection and jealousy, his blue gaze resting on the gravel below. Stan chose to push it aside for a just moment, needing this conversation like he needed air. His best friend was once again acknowledging his existence. "Yes, I'm here!"

"Dude! I'm so sorry! I lost my phone… again." Kyle's happy voice almost created a music for Stan and he could easily exhale all the excruciating thoughts that he had earlier. "This is my new number! Okay, just save this one!"

"O-okay I will," Stan beamed, turning his head away from Kenny's view. "How are you dude? It's been a while."

"Good, dude! Aw fuck!" Stan could hear a large ruckus in the background and a few people scrambling. "Come on you guys, there's fragile stuff in that box… Anyway. Stan, still there?"

"Yeah I'm here." Stan said, cupping his phone to his ear, straining to hear Kyle over all the noise.

Kyle let out an irritated sigh, a door being opened and closed was heard through the phone. "Sorry about that. Listen, I'm sending you a gift." Stan's ear perked up. They haven't ever sent each other gifts, except during their birthdays. "I think you're going to like—Hey! You guys, please be careful. Jesus Christ. Listen Stan, I'll text you okay?"

"Yeah, sounds good… a-and thank you." Stan stammered, a small disappointment trailing in his voice as Kyle said a quick "See ya!" before hanging up the phone. Stan waited a moment in a blissful state, relieved the Kyle hadn't forgotten about him after all. His small smile was quickly wiped away, finding Kenny looking off into the distance, blonde hair being gently pushed back against the breeze and a solemn expression tainting his face.

"Sorry… about that Kenny." Stan mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Kenny's eyes reopened, and he turned towards Stan waving a hand. "Dude, its fine. Really. I'm glad you guys still talk."

"Yeah, but to do it in front of you…"

"Stan, its fine." Kenny pulled another cigarette from the carton. "And… I could just barely hear his voice through phone. It was kind of nice. I mean, he probably still hates me, but I liked hearing him talk like he was happy."

Stan raked his fingers against his knees. He knew that Kenny still had feelings for Kyle, and sometimes he couldn't help but feel sympathetic towards him. He wished he could tell him that Kyle no longer hated him, but he honestly didn't know any more. Other times, he still felt that Kenny was getting what he deserved. Whatever he did, must've been really fucked up for Kyle to just leave town. But that was just the bitter part of him. Kyle never told Stan all the details and whenever they did speak, Kyle would only want to talk about what the other was doing. Stan didn't even know much about Kyle's new life in New York. He only knew that Kyle made some new friends, but that was the extent, he didn't even know their names.

"Kenny."

"Hm?"

"If you ever saw Kyle again… would you try to get him back?" Stan was testing the waters of this question, hoping to not upset his friend.

Kenny stretched out his long arms, his white t-shirt lifting up against is stomach. He let the thought sink in completely, really giving an attempt to answer this question that he'd asked himself millions of times before. "Well," he began, "I don't think I'll ever see him again. Except at your wedding or some shit. So there's really no chance in that happening."