Author's Note: GAH! This is really getting on my nerves. I think I've gotten all the little problemos solved. I think. Don't own South Park. Blah blah blah....

"I'm sorry boys, but immediate family only," the nurse stated.

"But come on! We're practically related!" Stan whined.

"You got that right," Kenny laughed. He pointed at Stan then in the general direction of Kyle's room. "Those two are practically married, they're so gay for each other. I mean, just the other day, I caught Stan-"

"Knock it off Kenny!" Stan hissed at his perverted friend. "Look," he directed his attention back to the nurse, "How about you give us a break?"

"I'm sorry boys, but immediate family only," she repeated.

"Ah. God. Dammit," Stan said, holding the bridge of his nose between his fingers and creasing his forehead. "God fucking dammit. Let's go, Kenny."

Bye Kyle. Get better, 'k?

XXX

Kyle opened his eyes, blinking when he was greeted with a bright light.

"Uhh," he groaned softly.

He looked over to his right, at a figure sleeping in a chair.

Chair? I don't have a chair like that in my room…

The figure moved slightly, and Kyle could see that it was his adopted brother. His chest moved up and down, a bit unevenly. Almost like he was…he was…

"Ike? Are you crying?"

Ike looked up, yawning. And sure enough, fresh tears glistened against his pale skin. Shock broke out across his face.

"…Kyle?" he asked, unsure if this was a dream. The boy nodded.

"That's my name." He smiled.

"Kyle?" he asked again. "Kyle! Oh my God! You're awake! Oh, Jesus! Wait until everyone hears!!"

"Huh?" Awake? Of course I'm awake.

"Oh," realization hit Ike. "You probably don't remember…"

"What?"

"You fell…and there was a whole lot of blood. You kept yelling at us to 'make it stop.'"

"Oh." He remembered now. He felt better. There wasn't any pain. Just a strange, numbing sensation in his arm. He glanced down and winced when he saw an IV connected to him, and a clear liquid dripping from a bag. It flowed down the tube and filled his body.

"Are you alright?" his brother asked, noting how Kyle had grimaced.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just can't stand needles. Especially when they're in me…"

"Really?" Ike's expression was bewildered. "Dude, you're diabetic. You stick needles in yourself all the time."

Kyle was silent.

"Wait? You don't?"

"Not usually. I'm supposed to, but I rarely do. I'll pretend to so mom doesn't get on my case," Kyle admitted.

"Damn," was all Ike could manage to say.

"So, how long have I been here?"

Ike blinked. "What? Oh, almost four days, I think." He was lost in thought. "Yeah.. Four days today."

"Crap. That long? Was I sleeping the whole time?" Kyle asked, laughing. He stopped when he saw his brother's sad face.

"Sure, I suppose you could say that." He smiled, but Kyle could see it was forced. "You were comatose for most of the time."

"Oh. Wow. I'm sorry." Kyle wasn't sure why he was apologizing. "So, uh, has anyone else visited?"

"Um…Stan and Kenny have been coming here everyday. It's too bad, though. Immediate family only."

Jesus Christ, mom.

"And Token…and uh…Butters, I think. Oh, and like half the track team came. Wendy came by, too, but I think seeing you was second on her wish list."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Making her moves on Stan?"

"Yep, you guessed it. It's kind of sad, if you think about it. I mean, Stan is gay and Wendy, well she-"

"-Can't seem to get it through her thick head." Kyle finished. Ike nodded.

"Maybe someday…"

"I doubt it."

Kyle yawned. He hadn't realized how tired he was.

"I should probably let you sleep. I'll…um….stay. If that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, please do." He shut his eyes and drifted off.

XXX

Someone was knocking on the door.

"Auugh." The noise was making his head hurt. He'd been released from the hospital only a couple days ago, but all he'd done since he got back was lay on the couch. It was a bit annoying, not being able to do anything because whenever he moved, everything hurt. But the thing that irritated him the most, was that no one told him why he had been the hospital in the first place.

The rapping continued.

"God, just a sec!" Kyle shouted, hoping the person outside the door would hear him. The tapping went on.

Goddammit.

Kyle reached over and grabbed a blanket on the sofa. He wrapped it around himself and gingerly got up. The knocking got louder.

"JESUS. I'll be right there!"

He grumbled as he made his way over to the door. He opened it, revealing Stan and Kenny standing with water dripping off of them.

Oh, shit. It was raining?

"Hey guys. Uh, sorry about that," Kyle laughed nervously.

"Asshole," Stan replied, smiling.

Kenny just flipped him off.

"Kyle, bubby, who is that?" his mom's voice drifted out of the kitchen.

"Just Kenny and Stan, mom," he answered.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Broflovski, I won't get gay with your son!" Stan joked. He wasn't afraid to be open with his sexual orientation.

"Ha! I might!" Kenny joked back.

"Dude, sick!"

"Kyle, close the door. You're letting out the hot air," his mom complained.

"You guys wanna come in, or something?"

"Naw," Kenny said. "We just came over here to stand in the rain and look inside your nice, warm, cozy house."

"Oh, ok." Kyle started to close the door. Kenny pushed it back open, forcing his way in. Stan was close behind.

"You suck, Broflosvki. Big time."

"I know. Make yourselves at home. You can sit anywhere, except the couch. That is mine." Kyle led them to the living room. "I'm surprised my mom hasn't kicked you out yet. She's been a smidge overprotective of me, lately."

"Yeah? I don't blame her. You look like shit," Stan stated.

"That's funny, since I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Kyle snickered, plopping back down on the couch. He sighed happily. Kenny fell next to him and Stan sat down in a chair.

"How've ya been?" Kenny asked.

"Eh, been better. This whole bedrest thing is starting to suck."

"Try dying all the time," Kenny quipped.

"You have it easy, Ken. At least you come back. If I die, I'm dead forever."

"Yeah, I guess that's true…"

"You know it's true," Kyle replied. "But you're lucky in one way…"

"How?"

Kyle frowned. "I know this may seem, well, a bit odd, but…uh…you get to experience more."

"More?" Kenny asked, confused. Then it dawned on him. "Oh. More. As in, a wider variety of deaths?"

"More or less," Kyle said. He put up his hand while Kenny opened his mouth. "No, no. Let me explain. I die once. Choke, drown, old age, whatever. Boom, it's done, no more Kyle. You, on the other hand, get hit by a car every other day, but you come back. Some-freaking-how, you come back. You've been to Hell and Heaven and everywhere inbetween." He paused. "I won't ever get to do that. It sounds stupid, I know, but I just don't know how to explain."

Kenny looked at him, frowning slightly. "I understand, Kyle," was all he said.

The boys glanced at each other, realizing how awkward this was. This was the first time they had discussed death, Kyle's in particular, like it was normal.

"Bubby, your friends need to leave. The doctor told you that you needed to sleep."

Kyle groaned. "Sorry dudes. You gotta go. See you after school?"

Stan smiled. "Hell yeah! See ya!"

And with that, Kenny and Stan walked away.

XXX

Oh God. Only ten more minutes and history would be over. Somehow, the boy's old teacher, Mr/Mrs. Garrison, had managed to get a teaching job at, you guessed it, the high school. And now he was deep in debate about…uh…

"…a pile of steaming shit. And that, class, is why Jessica Alba should be naked in more of her movies."

The bell rang. Oh thank fucking God, Kenny thought. Lunch!

He darted out of his seat and was partway out the door when, suddenly, he was being pulled aside.

What the fuck?

He noticed a pair of large hands, clutching his jacket. "Jesus, Cartman. What the Hell's the matter with you?"

Cartman released his friend, and Kenny would've walked away, had he not looked up and seen the expression on Eric's face.

"Hey, dude? You alright?"

Cartman's eyes were blank and he seemed to be lost in another world. "Kenny," he said finally, "I know how you feel..."

"Huh?"

"…about being poor. I understand now. I thought I did when my mom gave away all my money to charity, but I was wrong. Being poor sucks major ass."

"Goddamit! You know absolutely NOTHING about being poor, fatass!!"

Cartman's eyes were wide. "Yes, yes I do. It sucks, Kenny. But you'll help me." It seemed to be more of a demand than a request.

"No." Kenny's answer wiped the smile off of his friend's face. "Just because I'm poor, and you're poor, doesn't mean I'll help you out."

"But Kennay!"

"No buts about it. You got everything confused. Poor people don't help each other. We help ourselves. You're thinking about gangs. Being brother's and all."

"No Kennay," said an annoyed Eric. "I was thinking about poor people."

"Fuck off, Cartman." Kenny quickly walked away, towards the cafeteria.

"Well…fine. You po' piece of white trash!"

"Right back at ya!" was the muffled reply.

XXX

The window creaked slightly as he lifted it up. He grunted with the effort of holding that up, while not falling off of Kyle's house. The window fell with a loud BANG and it was a wonder nobody woke up.

"…Goddammit fatass," Kyle mumbled very softly, so no one could hear.

Cartman silently snuck into Kyle's room. Again. He headed down the winding staircase towards the fridge. Again.

Hotdogs, here I come!

He opened the door, then froze, hearing shuffling behind him.

SHIT! SHIT! Gotta move! Gotta get out! Gotta...

"Move over," someone demanded.

Oh shit.

"Kyle?"

"Move over," he repeated.

Cartman slid sideways and watched as Kyle reached in the fridge and grabbed a Sprite.

"Hotdogs are in the freezer. You'll have to put them in the microwave," he said nonchalantly.

"Uh…" he was unable to speak. This was just…odd. "O-ok, Kyle."

"You really should learn to use the front door. It's easier. Or so I've heard."

"Easier for what?" Eric asked, realizing Kyle was actually awake and not sleepwalking.

"Sneaking into my house." Duh.

"I…I wasn't sneak-sneaking into your house." Stupid, Cartman. Stupid.

Kyle looked at him and frowned. "Whatever you call it, then."

"Uh…umm…" Then an idea hit Cartman. "Kyyyle," he said in a spooky voice. "I am not Eric Cartman! Wooooo…..I am a figment of your imaginaaaation……Wooooooo. You are haluuuucinaaating me. Wooooooo. I shall…..uh……disssssapeeear now………WOOOOO!!!!" and with his final "Wooo" Eric Cartman slipped out the front door.

XXX

At school the next day, Eric did everything he could to appear normal. He ripped on Stan for being gay, Kenny for being poor, and Butters for stuttering. Hell, he even ripped on Wendy for being a slut. But the whole time, he was thinking about Kyle.

Did he believe my act? I barely did...

He sat down and was surprised, shocked actually, that a green ushanka was blocking his view.

"Ky-Kyle?"

"What of it, fatass?" was the response. He turned back around to face the teacher. "We need to talk. After class."

"Uh….sure. Jew," he added.

As soon as both boys were in the hallway, Kyle grabbed Cartman's hand and pulled him over by the water fountain. He leaned forward, like, like…

Oh crap! Is he going to kiss me?

But, no, wait…Kyle moved slightly to the left and his mouth was moving next to Cartman's ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Cartman was taken aback. "About wh-what?" he stuttered.

"About your mom."

"What about her?" Cartman was angry, now. Jesus, all Kyle did was pull him over to say something about his goddam crack whore mom.

Jesus, Kyle.

"I'm so sorry," Kyle repeated. "You should start using the front door. It's unlocked. And a lot quieter than going through my window."

"Wh-what? I…I don't know what you're talking about…"

"Of course not." Kyle smiled a bit. "I'll see you later." He walked away.

XXX

What the Hell was that all about? Cartman thought as he angrily stomped on the dry sidewalk. He passed by a house, and it's motion sensor light flickered to life. He was remembering the conversation he and Kyle had in school.

He continued trudging around, aimlessly. Until he ended up at the last place he wanted to be, next to home.

Cartman hesitantly walked up to the front door.

He said it'd be unlocked...He was practically inviting me in...

The door opened easily. He walked into a brightly lit room.

"Auugh."

"Hey fatass. What took you so long?"

Ah. Goddammit.

"I…uh…got lost? In your imaaaaaginatiiiiiion…"

Kyle scowled.

"Wooooo?"

Kyle shook his head. "I'm not an idiot, Cartman. Even you know that."

Cartman sighed. Damn. "Yeah. I know."

"Can you just explain why?"

"Huh?" Eric was puzzled. "Explain what?"

"Why you come here every night."

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that." Kyle's tone was a bit exasperated.

"I uh…" Come on dude! Think! He gave up. "Food," he said truthfully.

"I got that. But why do you need food?" Kyle asked.

Cartman sat down next to Kyle on the couch. "My crack whore sonofabitch mother. That's why. She's finally partied our money away. Ten bucks," he laughed. "Ten fucking bucks is all I have left. Do you know how many years of college that'll pay for? Ha! It barely pays for lunch!"

Holy shit! How does he do that?

"How the fuck do you do that?"

"Do what?" Kyle was confused, now.

"Make people spill their guts. Do you have some special Jewish powers or something?"

Kyle laughed, a light and somewhat girlish noise coming from his throat. "Cartman, for the last time, Jewish people don't have special powers."

"Well, whatever it is, stop. I feel weird telling you things like that."

"You're welcome here, you know," Kyle said quietly. "Whenever you feel like it."

"Uh…thanks? I think." He paused. "Yeah. Thanks. It sure beats being at home, talking to a passed out bitch." He thought quietly to himself. "You know, Kyle, maybe, just maybe, you aren't such a good for nothing Jew, after all. Unless we're with others. Then you suck. Ok?"

"Yeah," Kyle laughed again. "And you're not a stupid fatass. Unless we're with people. Then you suck."

"Deal."

Wow. Did we just say what I think we said? Did I just tell Kyle, smartass, goody-goody two shoes, Jew-boy Kyle, that I don't hate him?Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...

"Uh…I should…pr-probably…umm…head home. Uh…so, yeah. See ya tomorrow. Jew."

Kyle was already halfway up the stairs. "Yeah. See ya." He waved as Cartman walked out the door with a bewildered look.

XXX

Kyle was waiting impatiently in the lobby of where he worked. His boss had called him earlier saying she wanted, "…to talk. Soon." He wondered what that meant.

What would we talk about? I haven't been here for awhile. Maybe she's just helping me catch up in what I missed...

"Mr. Broflosvki?" A voice broke through his thoughts.

"That's me."

"You may go in now." Damn. Just as he was calming down, nervousness passed over him, again.

He half walked, half stumbled to the door that led to the person who decided his fate.

Please, please, please...

"Ah. Mr. Broflosvki. Kyle. Come. Have a seat."

He sat, mechanically. "You wanted to talk to me?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "Kyle, you haven't been to work for the past two weeks."

"Yeah, I was si-"

"Do not interrupt me," she said sharply. "As I was saying, you were gone. Sick, I know. However, you did not follow the company's policies."

"Which policies?"

"For one thing you never called in to let us know you would be out of work. Another thing is that you were supposed to ask someone to sub in for your shift, which you failed to do. Are there any questions?"

He sat, shocked. "N-no. I'm sorry for any inconviences this has caused you and the company. I promise to work twice as hard-"

"There is no need," she said coldly. "You are only here to sign this form, saying you voluntarily quit." She took out a slip of paper and slid it towards Kyle.

"But..." he stammered.

"I'm sorry Broflosvki. You were a good employee. I'll put in some good words for you at your next place of employment." She pointed at the paper. "Please sign here."