Annnnddd my reviewers are so cute. So this is for you guys. FYI, this is probably going to end after three chapters, so enjoy!

Stan's POV

Your date with Wendy did not go well. She looked beautiful, but you threw up on her, and she got pissed off and punched you in the face. It had hurt, really freaking bad, but you'd just apologized and shrugged your shoulders. What else could you do? You couldn't hit girls, and you didn't want to be punched again (Wendy has a vicious left hook), so you just stood there, while she bitched at you for being a lame boyfriend. The mood was pretty much set after that.

Playing video games with Kyle made you feel better afterwards, cause Kyle sucked and you beat him like ten times. Your friend had gotten angry and thrown his controller across the room, but he did that a lot. Kyle had quite a temper, but he never hit you like Wendy did. And you were used to his bitching. Guy-bitching was different than Girl-bitching, too. Less shrill. You had waited it out patiently, before challenging him to another game. You let him almost win this time, but then beat him again easily, and he'd called you an asshole.

The next day, Kyle had stared at you in class. He looked like he wanted to tell you something, but didn't end up saying anything. That made you kinda sad, cause Super Best Friends told each other everything, right? Why couldn't Kyle tell you? You wouldn't have made fun of him or anything…well, maybe you would have, but then you would have been cool about it and taken him out for sugar free ice cream or something and told him you loved him no matter what. And then he would smile and everything would be okay again.

So why wouldn't he tell you?

It bothered you for the rest of the day, Kyle's not-telling. He was acting weird too, all jumpy and quiet, like he always got before a big test. Did you guys have a big test coming up? You didn't really remember. You'd have to ask him later, cause Kyle was always better at remembering those things than you were.

That night, you guys have a sleepover. Sleepover's are cool, cause sometimes you guys talk about things. Today, there are definitely things you wanna talk about with Kyle, like what he hasn't told you yet that's been bothering him all day. But even when no one else is awake, and it's just you and him, lying in your bed close enough to tell secrets so quietly no one else will hear, he doesn't say anything. He gives you that look again, that look that looks like he wants to say it, but he never does. He just rolls over and goes to sleep. You listen to his breathing for a few minutes before dozing off yourself, a little disappointed, but too tired to do anything about it.

You decide in the morning not to push the issue. Maybe he really doesn't want you to know.

Later, you guys are watching the sunset over Stark's, and you're still wondering why Kyle won't tell you whatever it is he isn't telling you. He's barely talked all day, not even when Cartman called his mother a Jewish Oompa Loompa. He'd just glared at Cartman, not telling him that his mom was an ugly crack whore…and that was weird. Kyle always called Cartman's mom an ugly crack whore when Cartman started in on Mrs. Broslofski.

So you knew something was wrong.

As you two watch the sun fade and the world get dark, you hold his hand to tell him that's it's okay, even if he doesn't tell you. Cause you know he will, someday, but you don't want him sad anymore. It sucks when Kyle's sad. He looks lost when he gets like this, and it makes you wanna punch stuff. You never want Kyle to be lost.

You don't let go of his hand, cause you're holding on to him. You're making sure he doesn't disappear into whatever's eating him up, and you're telling him without words that you'll kick whoever's ass needs kicking, go wherever he needs you to, and say whatever he needs to hear to find his way again. Because Super Best Friends don't let each other suffer alone. And so you hold hands, cause that's like a sign of solidarity or something, right? Plus it feels nice and makes you warmer. South Park's way too fucking cold, and holding hands with Kyle makes it a little more bearable.

Kyle comes over after school that day, and you beat his virtual ass in Call of Duty (again), but he doesn't even get mad this time. He just sighs and drops his controller. Something must really be bothering him, for him to not even flip you off or call you a pussy for beating him again. You watch as he rubs his neck, cause you know it gets sore when he's focusing on something too long, and you reach out to help him. You massage his neck the same way you rub your mom's neck when she calls you over to help her get out the knots she gets after a long day of work, but Kyle's knots are bigger than your mom's. His shoulders are stiff, but once he relaxes, it's easier. You concentrate on a particularly bad one, working your thumbs under and around it to loosen up the tension, but then he's standing up and telling you something about dinner, and then he's gone. You scratch your head, wondering what the hell just happened as you watch him go.

Wendy apologizes for punching you the next day while you're standing at your locker, waiting for Kyle to walk with you to Calculus. She giggles and smiles at you in the way that makes you nauseous in a good way, and asks if you want to hang out after school. You say okay, and she giggles again before walking off in that cute way that girls walk.

But when you notice Kyle, he is looking at you with this betrayed expression on his face that you definitely can't figure out. He still doesn't say anything though, so you assume he's just pissed about that History test he didn't study for but probably did great on anyways. You know you did okay, because you copied off of him.

You're awesome at football. You burn up the field, the guys on your tail don't have a chance as you weave and dart right through their fingers. You reach over the touchdown line and throw the ball down in celebration of your victory and pump your fists in the air. You look for Kyle, wanting to share this moment with him, and he's waving his arms back at you with a huge smile you can see even from all the way over here. You salute him jokingly, happy that you've got someone like him watching you. It's fun to be good at something when he's watching you.

Token's hurt and you can't help but blame yourself. He was trying to tackle you, to pin you helplessly onto the grass and hold you down, but you twisted out of his grasp and he lost his balance. He landed on his ankle weird, and there was a horrible crunching noise that made you really queasy when he went down. You help him up and your heart clenches up whenever he makes that hurt sound your dog makes sometimes, and you just feel awful. Token's such a nice dude; he's also a more than decent player, and so you feel doubly bad for crippling your team. There's a big game next week, and Token's the halfback, and Cartman's his sub, so you guys are pretty much fucked there. Cartman sucks at everything.

Kyle smiles at you sympathetically as you pass him, supporting token, to the nurse's office. He shakes his head at you're downcast expression and rolls his eyes when you point to Token and grimace. He means that you need to stop being a pussy and recognize that it was an accident, and he didn't even need to say the words to get the message across. You just know these things about Kyle; you don't need to have an actual conversation with him all the time to know what he's thinking. You also notice that if he doesn't blame you…its somehow easier for you to forgive yourself.

You fall asleep close to Kyle again, and he seems happier. Whatever it was that was bothering him seems not to be bothering him anymore, so that's good. You're only a little curious as to what it was; if Kyle didn't think it was important enough to share, you trust his judgment. You sigh as you inhale his smell that's part him, but part you, too, cause you guys are together so often. It relaxes you enough that sleep claims you without a fight tonight.