"No. Fucking. Way."

Stan laughed nervously whilst keeping his eyes on the TV. He managed to hit a slice-combo while Cartman repeated his last sentence.

"Dude, you did not fuck Wendy Testaburger."

He smirked before pausing the game and turning his head to face Cartman. The fat-ass was slumped in Stan's huge blue beanbag, holding a huge bag of chips. Kyle sat on the floor with notebooks and textbooks spread around him and his laptop resting on his lap. Stan saw the redhead's attention was focused on whatever he was writing. He lay on his stomach, spread across his bed and Kenny sat with his back against the wall and his legs hanging over Stan's.

He saw Cartman's face flush as he began to spew insults and accusations.

Stan turned his focus back to his Xbox game until Cartman blew off the steam. He knew the lump was just jealous. Kenny had been the whore of the group and that had become normal, but Cartman could take solace in the fact that he wasn't the only virgin. Now Stan had finally lost his virginity, the only person he could take comfort in was Kyle and, well… that made them all feel ill.

Finally, Cartman went quiet. The room was full of the grunts of the dying as Stan went through his game.

It took a while for Cartman to speak again, and when he did, Stan had to strain to hear him.

"What… what was it like?"

Stan chuckled. "It was awesome, dude. Awesome."

Kenny lowered the magazine in his hand before swiping Stan on the back of the head.

"Details, dude. We want details! Does she have a nice wrack? Did she go cowgirl or was it missionary? Did she suck-"

"Dude! She's my girlfriend… and no. She didn't."

The three of them chuckled. Cartman seemed to have forgotten all about his bad mood and now sat forward on his chair. Stan sighed as Kenny swiped him again. He paused his game and sighed, putting the controller on the floor. He turned, making Kenny move his legs. He knew that he wouldn't be able to tell them with a straight face, so instead he put his arms behind his head and looked at his white ceiling.

"We were just foolin' around, you know? Just kissing and stuff. So I thought, 'why not' and, you know… I got to second base and she... well, she really liked it, you know. And then she just… changed. It was like a switch, dude. She was all a sudden confident and she had this voice that just… she drove me fucking mad. Then she was pulling out these condoms and we were naked and…"

"And you totally fucked her sideways right? Tell me she's walking funny."

Stan frowned and turned to Cartman. "Dude, not cool."

But Cartman was on a role. He began to describe in detail what Stan 'really' did to Wendy. Apparently he had turned into a pornstar and was fucking her four ways to Sunday. He let Cartman ramble.

His closed his eyes and thought back to that night. It was now all a blur of black hair, soft skin and blankets. He laughed as Kenny agreed with Cartman. The blond got to his feet and the two started to mimic what Stan had done to her. It ended up with Kenny in some god-awful position and Cartman red in the face form laughter.

Stan looked down, his stomach aching from laughing, and saw Kyle still focused on his laptop. He frowned.

Shouldn't Kyle be happy for him? He was now a man, done the greatest thing a man could do.

"Dude?" Stan gently touched Kyle's shoulder, to which the redhead jumped back so quickly that his laptop hit the floor.

He turned his emerald eyes to Stan, making him flinch.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

Kyle grabbed his laptop from the floor, slammed it shut and began to gather his books.

"If I knew this was what I was coming over for, then I'd have stayed at home," he snapped, shoving his stuff into his backpack.

Cartman and Kenny went still, as did Stan. They all studied Kyle, the shock of his sudden outburst rendering them still.

"Kyle, what…?"

"Well fucking done, Stan! You stuck your dick into your girlfriend! It's not some earth-changing thing!"

Anger washed over him while Kenny and Cartman watched them with wide-eyes. It was the first time he had seen Cartman completely speechless.

"What the fuck is your problem, Kyle? This happens to be important to me!"

Kyle spun on his heel and faced him. He raised his hand, pointing a finger at him. Stan braced himself, ready to face his best friend – for what, he didn't know.

It was only then that he saw the look on Kyle's face.

His pale cheeks were flushed, bringing out the freckles that curled around his bright eyes. His lips were pressed together so hard that they had a white tinge to them. But it was only when he looked into his friend's eyes that he saw them glistening with unshed tears. He saw the anger swelling in them, but there was sadness there, too. He had known Kyle for too long to be fooled by angry front he put on. His friend was sad. Deeply, crushingly sad.

"Kyle…" he breathed, but his friend had already turned.

He stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that the poster hanging above Stan's TV fell to the floor.

"What the fuck is Jew-boy's problem?"

Stan folded his arms over his chest. "I… don't know."

Kyle ignored him for the better end of three weeks. He tried to talk to him at school, but he avoided him like the plague. Stan tried to find comfort in Wendy, a comfort that ended very very well. But sex didn't take his mind off Kyle.

It was weird not talking to him. They always talked to each other. Sure, they had their falling-outs before, but this felt different somehow.

He had only had the feeling once, when he turned ten and depression took over him. Life had become pointless, everything turned to shit and nothing ever made him happy. Stan had gone to Kenny in those months. They had experimented with a few drugs, drank a bit, stole from shops. Kyle had gotten closer to Cartman, if that was even possible.

It had taken a near-death experience to get himself back to normal, but it had taken a good two years to get his relationship with Kyle close to what it had been.

Now he felt like all that was being sucked down the drain.

"Hey, dude, you OK?"

Stan smiled weakly. "Hey Kenny. Yeah, I'm just… thinking."

Kenny nodded and jumped from the bench Stan sat on to the floor before taking a seat next to him. There was a whistle from the pitch below them and Stan watched as the track team jogged effortlessly in between the white lines. A few other people sat in the stands, talking and laughing. He sighed and rested his chin on his hand, leaning on his leg.

"Kyle talking to you yet?"

Stan shook his head, watching as Kenny unwrapped a foil square. Inside were two pieces of buttered bread, devoid of any filling. As always, the pity Stan fell spiked up, but he tried to push it down. Kenny had made it clear that he wanted no pity from anyone.

"I don't know what I've done, Kenny. Normally I have some idea how I piss him off, but this time? I have no fucking clue."

Kenny bit into his bread, chewing thoughtfully.

"Maybe…" he swallowed "maybe it's not as complicated as you think."

Stan frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kenny shrugged, taking another bite. "I think Kyle's got a lot going on. You just need to give him time, dude."

Stan sighed and sat up. He nodded and grabbed the plastic box sat next to him. He had some chips inside and an apple, but he didn't know how to offer it to Kenny. So instead he put the box back down.

"I gotta get to class dude. Thank you."

Kenny gave him a lop-sided smile, making his bright blue eyes shine.

"No worries, dude. Oh, I've gotta go to Denver on Saturday. Wanna come?"

"Sure, dude. See you tomorrow."

Kenny nodded again, looking out over the pitch as his friend walked away. He curled the foil into a ball and was about to get up to leave when he saw the small, Tupperware box sat on the bench. He opened the lid and smiled to himself. He turned to see the brown jacket disappearing into the school building.

"What's wrong?"

Wendy pulled back slightly, giving him room to breathe. They lay on her now all too familiar sheets, tangled within each other. He had his hand on the soft curve of her back and she on the rim of his jeans. He felt her need, but he just couldn't concentrate.

"I'm sorry, Wendy, I just…"

He sat up, putting his hands over his eyes. He rubbed them furiously, angry at himself for everything. He was so badly frustrated.

As he left Kenny, he had run into Cartman and Kyle. They were talking quietly in the hallway, which was something they hadn't done since…

"Sup, guys?"

Cartman had actually looked briefly uncomfortable before making some excuse, punching Kyle in the arm and walking away.

"Kyle, can we-"

"I gotta go, Stan."

He had pushed past him, catching his shoulder and then storming down the hallway. A few people had noticed before a he caught wind of a remark made by some piss-ass senior.

"Aww, lovers' spat?"

Stan had glared at the guy before storming off in the other direction. He had gone to Wendy's house, hoping to calm down and just relax a little, but he was restless. He was full of confusion which led to frustration, then to anger and then to sadness.

"Wendy, I… I can't stay. I've got a lot of homework to do."

He got to his feet and shoved on his shoes before kissing her quickly and leaving the house.

Stan walked home slowly. He didn't put on his jacket, instead letting the cold blow over him, freezing the anger on his skin. He breathed in deeply until it hurt before releasing the breath in a puff of icy clouds.

He looked up as he passed the dark green building two blocks from his own.

The windows radiated warm light and his eyes instantly sought out one particular window. The same light seeped through the pane and he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing. So many nights had he been in there with Kyle. They would talk about stupid, pointless things, play games, surf the web, do homework or just relax. They were comfortable in each other's company, and it was that easy closeness he didn't want to lose. It had been so hard to get back.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Stan found himself drifting closer to the doorstep.

As his finger hovered over the doorbell, something crashed in the distance. He heard something smash and then a muffled cry. It was accompanied by a loud cry and another loud bang.

He turned towards the source of the noise and his heart dropped to see the broken shack that Kenny and his family lived in.

There was another crash and another cry.

The sounds weren't unfamiliar. If anything, they had gotten worse as Kenny got older. Sometimes it got pretty bad. The cops would be called or they wouldn't, and Kenny would come to school wearing sunglasses and complaining of headaches.

The town tried to drown out the McCormick house and pretend it was nothing but a bad storm that would pass.

Stan turned back to Kyle's front door, but the moment had passed. He shoved his hands in his pockets and put the house behind him. He headed towards his house when another shout drew his attention. He felt himself drifting closer to the house and he could just hear what was being said inside.

"…drunken fuck-head!"

"Don't, you ever, talk to me – like that!"

Another slam, a crash and a sob.

"Don't fucking touch her!" Stan recognised Kenny's voice.

It was accompanied by another crash and slam. He heard a grunt and Mrs McCormick screaming at her husband. He prayed that Karen wasn't home.

"You little shit!"

Suddenly, their front door was wrenched open, spewing light onto their dead lawn. A figure was thrown backwards, landing heavily and it only took a second to recognise Kenny.

He was wearing nothing but his jeans. Mr McCormick loomed into the doorway. He stomped over to Kenny and with one foot, booted him in the stomach.

"Hey!" Stan found himself running to his friend before rational thought came to him.

He charged at Mr McCormick, bowing down and ramming into the man with his shoulder. The two of them flew across the lawn, Mr McCormick landing on his back and Stan catching him heavily. Stan groaned and went to move when a weight crushed down on him. He vaguely saw Mr McCormick's dirty hair before pain exploded across his face, knocking all sense from him.

The weight was thrown off him, but Stan couldn't see. He cradled his face which felt numb while his head still rocked from the force of the blow.

"You gay little shit! You're nothing but a little bitch! You and your faggy little friend!"

"Stew, you bastard!" he recognised Mrs McCormick's voice. "Kenny, take your friend! Take him! GO!"

Stan felt something grab his arms and heave him to his feet. He caught a glimpse of the front door slamming closed and cries coming from inside. He felt himself being heaved forward, but he was still rearing. The sounds from the house began to fade as sights started to become clearer.

He saw his house coming into view.

Strong arms held him and he let himself be led to his front door. The two of them stood by the step as Stan fumbled in his pocket for his keys. He lifted them up but couldn't get them in the door. His hands were trembling from the adrenaline.

"Here, dude. Just… sit."

Kenny's voice was hoarse and shaky. Stan felt himself land heavily on his ass. He winced from the cold but it helped ground him. He put his hand to the side of his face which had grown its own pulse. He felt the heat radiating there and it was swelling like a bitch already.

He sighed and turned his head, only to have his whole body jerk from shock.

"Jesus Christ, Kenny!"

Kenny was leaning on his knees, which were slightly separated so he didn't get the blood that was dripping from his nose on his jeans. His blond hair was sticking out messily and his there were bruises already forming on his pale skin. Stan grabbed Kenny's shoulder and gently turned him to face him.

His stomach was red raw and blood was still running down his nose. Stan's hand flew to his mouth as he saw the bruises, the cuts, the abuse.

Kenny kept his eyes down before turning back into his original position. The blood dripped steadily onto the floor and they sat there until it stopped. Stan felt himself shiver. He pulled off his jacket and put it on Kenny's shoulders.

They got to their feet and Stan quickly kicked dirt over the small pool of blood by the front door. He then rammed his keys into the door and opened it quickly.

He saw the flickering of the TV set as he walked closer into the main room. His mother's head was resting on the sofa arm and Stan breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was sleeping. The light was off so they managed to sneak through the room easily. He ushered Kenny upstairs before walking past them and into the kitchen.

Moving quickly, Stan wrapped a handful of ice into two tea towels, grabbed the six pack from the fridge, along with a plate of leftover meatloaf. He grabbed the loaf of bread from the cupboard and an unopened bag of chips.

Balancing his stash in his arms, he jogged up the stairs and through his bedroom door. He dropped the stuff on the bed and slowly put one of the towels to his face. He winced before he moaned. The cold washed over his face, making the throbbing slow.

Stan opened his eyes and his heart sank. Kenny stood in the middle of his room, staring at the long mirror attached to the wall. Stan watched as he gently touched the bruise forming on his stomach from his father's kick. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't help but follow Kenny's line of sight. He saw that there were small bruises on his arms, some healing, and some forming. There was a mark around his neck and his right eye was already darkening.

He looked away from the bruises, concentrating instead on Kenny's back. But the more he stared, the more he found himself studying the curves of muscles over his shoulder blades, the long, elegant curve of his back, up and over the muscles of his shoulder and onto his arms.

He felt himself swallow the lump in his throat as a buzzing sensation started in his stomach.

He let his eyes flicker again to the mirror where a pair of sapphire eyes bore into his.

Stan jumped slightly, the weirdness spreading over him. He kept his eyes down as he offered the other towel to his friend. Kenny turned and took it, moving slowly onto the bed where Stan sat.

He didn't know what to say to Kenny, so instead he put down the towel and grabbed the plate of meatloaf. He made himself a quick sandwich and passed the rest of Kenny.

The blond didn't hesitate, shovelling the food into his mouth while Stan passed him one from the pack.

The two of them sat in silence as they ate. Stan took breaks now and then to put the ice to his face, a move which Kenny copied every so often.

When the plate was empty, the two turned to their beers.

They drank easily, quickly.

Stan's eyes grew heavy as he cracked open his third can. They were both leaning against the wall, cradling their beers.

"So… Karen?"

"At her friend's house," croaked Kenny.

Stan nodded. He took another sip of his beer. The frothy liquid was bitter and the bubbles went up his nose, but he could feel himself getting warmer, more relaxed.

"I'm going to kill him, Stan."

Stan frowned and turned to Kenny. His piercing eyes were focused and full of malice.

"What do you mean, dude?"

"I mean that I am going to drive a crowbar so far up his ass that he'll be chewing it."

Stan felt uneasy as hate radiated from his friend. He hesitantly reached over and touched his arm. He patted it gently and was surprised to see Kenny relax. He leant back and sighed, suddenly looking exhausted.

"Wanna go sleep, dude?"

"Mmm, that an invite?" he teased, smiling faintly.

Stan barked a laugh before wincing. He pushed the ice closer to his face. He suddenly felt too awake, too wired.

"I don't know about you, dude, but I want a drink."

Kenny raised his empty beer can in agreement. Stan smirked and got to his feet, walking quickly from his room and down the hallway until he got to his dad's study. He opened the bottom draw of his desk and felt around the back until he gripped the smooth, glass bottle. He had caught his father drinking the whiskey late one night and had promised him that he wouldn't tell his mother. Stan chucked the bottle in the air playfully before kicking the draw shut and walking back into his room.

He knew that his mother didn't know about the whiskey, therefore his father would never mention it and would just buy himself another bottle.

Stan closed his door quietly and then jumped onto the bed. Kenny groaned but soon perked up when he saw the whiskey.

Stan screwed open the top and took a long, deep drink. The alcohol burnt his throat and warmed his whole body, but he loved the feel of it. He didn't really drink, but something about seeing one his best friends being beaten to a pulp had a way of creating the craving.

He pulled it away and coughed, handing it to Kenny who drank just as deeply as he.

They looked at each other and giggled, the events that had happened not half an hour ago already becoming something that settled in their distant memories.

The empty bottle landed on the floor with a slight clink. Stan looked over briefly and then laughed stupidly. His room was spinning and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate.

He lay on his back, stretched out as far as he could.

His hand landed heavily on his chest and he frowned, wondering when he had taken off his shirt. He turned his head and saw Kenny standing in the middle of the room. He was swaying slightly and staring into the mirror again. He could just make out his fingers slowly tracing the bruise.

Stan blinked, trying to look away from his friend, but they way that his fingers wound around the muscles lining his stomach-

"Stan?"

"Hm?" he snapped his head up to look at the ceiling.

"Do… do you think that I'm, that I'm… good-looking?"

Stan chuckled and turned his head. Kenny wasn't facing him just still studying his own reflection. He was about to make a funny remark but as he opened his mouth, he caught a glimpse of Kenny's bright eyes.

"I… uh, I don't know dude. Sure, I guess."

Even though there was dried blood on his face, Kenny still had a good one. He had a strong chin and high cheekbones. He had dark lashes framing deep, azure eyes. Stan couldn't help but think that Kenny could get any girl… or guy that he wanted. He had seen some girls clawing just to get close to him.

Kenny tilted his head thoughtfully and Stan started when he saw that he was staring at him.

"Stan…?"

"Yeah?"

He studied his white ceiling.

"Staaaaaaaaan…?"

"Yeeeeeeeeeeees?"

Suddenly Kenny's face was above his. His whole body jumped with the shock. He was so close that his hair was ticking Stan's skin. He felt his mouth go dry. He opened his mouth to protest when Kenny smirked. It was a look he had seen on his friend's face more than once, especially around Tammy. His eyes seemed to intensify and it was a look that held Stan captive.

"Stanny, is there anything you want to tell me?"

Stan felt his stomach twist. Kenny's voice had suddenly become a lot deeper and somehow… throatier.

"Uh… no?"

Kenny's face became a little closer. He could feel his breath running over his cheek and smell the tinge of whiskey.

"Are you sure?" he purred.

Stan felt himself shift uncomfortably. "I'm sure, dude. You, uh, you're a little close."

"Oh, sorry… this better?"

Stan went rigid. Kenny had moved his entire body onto the bed… over Stan. He had his knees over Stan's hips and was holding himself up with his arms. The weight made Stan inhale sharply.

"Kenny…" he wanted his voice to be firm, to tell his friend that this wasn't funny, but it had come out barely louder than a whisper.

"Now, you see, you must have something to tell me because I'm a little confused. You haven't moved an inch and I'm pretty much on top of you, and that is telling me something."

"Dude… I don't, I'm not…"

"Not…?"

Kenny lowered himself onto his elbows, putting more of his bodyweight on top of him. He inhaled sharply again, the alcohol was making his brain foggy and his thought slow. Kenny gently touched his nose to Stan's. He was so close now that he could smell the deep, earthy scent that was Kenny.

"Do you want to kiss me, Stan?"

His mouth was dry. He couldn't think, couldn't move. Confusion was blinding him. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe but was stopped as something soft touched his lips. His eyes snapped open but all he could think was how awesome it felt to have the weight above him, to have the hair brushing over his cheek.

Before he could think, Kenny opened his mouth slightly. Stan hesitantly moved his lips with Kenny's, following his lead. Kenny's tongue gently touched his own. It was warm and slick and it made him moan.

Kenny's rough hand slowly ran down his side and over his hip. He shuddered as he moved it over his stomach.

As he was about to give into whatever was taking over him, some form of sense smacked him in the gut. He pulled away and gasped, squirming until he was on his feet. He crossed his arms and walked back and forth. He was glad that the only light was coming from the window. He didn't want Kenny to see how flushed he was.

He glanced at the bed and saw Kenny lying on his side, propping his head up with his elbow and watching him. He couldn't see his expression but was sure his eyes were sparkling.

"Dude, this isn't… I'm not… I'm not gay, alright dude?"

"You're not?"

Stan ground his teeth at Kenny's sarcastic tone.

"I am not gay, OK. I'm drunk, you're drunk… let's just, just go to sleep OK?"

Kenny made a gesture with his arm before shuffling up the bed. Stan danced from foot to foot again, wondering whether or not he could get into the bed. He didn't want to sleep on the floor, his head hurt, his face hurt…

Kenny sighed and lay back.

"Alright, dude. Let's just go to sleep."

Stan ground his teeth before quickly getting into the bed. He lay completely still on his back. He could feel Kenny's bare skin against his arm and it made him nervous.

Kenny let out a little laugh before turning onto his side, baring his back to Stan. He stayed completely still for a while until Kenny's even breathing filled the silent room. It was only then that he let his muscles relax. They cried out slightly in protest from being held so long, but soon he was able to turn comfortably to his side.

He had his back to Kenny's and tried to keep as much distance between them as he could. The cold air seeped under the covers from the gap created by their shared covers and after a while it made him shiver.

"Kenny?" he whispered.

There was no answer.

Stan took a breath and slowly wiggled himself closer to the body, letting his back touch Kenny's. The warmth seeped into him and he let out a small sigh of relief before his eyes drifted closed.

In the darkness of the room, no one saw the smile creep across the blond boy's face. A smile that blew away with the lingering night.