I walk through a cold, foggy forest, looking for an answer. A beam of light shines through, leading me to follow it in hopes of being found. A silhouette with a flashlight comes closer until I am able to distinguish its person. The flashlight drops to the floor as they hurry to clutch me into a warm embrace, all signs of cold forgotten. I sigh, happily.

Warm.

Chapter 1

I'm not a morning person if you think about it. Though alcohol soothes all my stress and anxiety, it has some killer headaches as an aftermath. I groan and reach for one of many water bottles sprawled across my desk, and almost knock over a dust covered Broncos football lamp.I take a huge gulp, wincing at the taste of morning breath and trudge to the bathroom where the food from the night before greets me in the toilet bowl.

I take a huge gulp, wincing at the taste of morning breath and trudge to the bathroom where the food from the night before greets me in the toilet bowl. I wipe my lips before flushing the toilet in utter disgust. I should be used to it, but seeing my puke first thing in the morning hasn't grown custom to me yet.

After brushing my teeth and taking a shower to get the smell off from the night before, I throw myself onto my bed. Reaching for my phone, I tap on Messages and tap Kyle's name, which is the second chat after my family group chat. I never really talk there, though.

Even though lots of people became distant with me after my alcoholism went into the open, Kyle stuck with me through thick and thin. Being super best friends all these years, I guess it's a hard thing to let it go. Hell, Cartman has even been distant with me. He hangs out with Butters more nowadays, surprisingly.

Growing up was also in Kyle's favour. He has a mop of fire coloured curls that usually get very frizzy in the summer, but they fall almost perfectly amongst his face. Light freckles cover his face and his eyes are a fierce green, like emeralds. He's a pretty handsome guy if you think about it, many girls go after him but he never seems interested for some reason. I shake my head and tap on Kyle's chat.

StanBone: yo u home yet

ky barf: Stan, I've been home since 12 this afternoon.

StanBone: o so u just got home 10 mins ago?

ky barf: It's 3 o'clock.

I blink in shock for a moment before realising that I always wake up late on weekends. One time, I even slept 15 hours and woke up at 7 pm wondering if the world had ended. During these 15 hours, my mother thought I had died and was having an anxiety attack while my dad kept poking me, or so he says, saying over and over "Staaaaan. Come to the dark side." I guess you can call me a heavy sleeper.

StanBone: lol oops guess i slept 2 late. o btw come over i missed u babe ;)

ky barf: Guess you're going through another hangover. Whatever, just have some clothes on I'll be over in 10.

I smile to myself and shut my phone off before resting my head on my white pillow. I always call Kyle names whenever I'm recovering from a hangover, it's just been our thing. Really the names can vary from babe to mother fucker depending on how I'm feeling. I heave myself up and pick up a shirt from off the carpet floor. I smell it and wince slightly before putting it on. Eh, it's just Kyle, I think to myself before going down the stairs for breakfast.

I'm greeted by my father reading the newspaper with the headline "Is your fish running for president?" I roll my eyes before going to the fridge and grabbing some milk. I pour myself a bowl of lucky charms and sit across my father who looks up from his daily news.

"Stan, have you been drinking again." He announces it as if it's a statement, and he isn't wrong since this is how my weekends usually end up nowadays. I shrug and shove a spoonful of sugary goodness into my mouth before saying in between chews. "Dunno, do you think I've been drinking again?" I counter, narrowing my eyes slightly.

He shrugs and ignores my question. "You don't want to turn out like I did Stan, trust me." He glances over to stare at me with a serious, concerned look on his face. I hate that look adults give me when they scold me on my drinking habits. If I could describe this look, it's basically the look you give a poor, sick person. Someone who's weak, lonely, and unable to take care of themselves. I'm able to care for myself. I just don't want to.

I push my chair away from the table and pick up my bowl. I avert my eyes to the ground before mumbling, "Kyle's coming over." I proceed up the stairs to hear my dad whistle and holler, "You can't run away from your problems son." I slam my door as a reply.

Minutes later, the sound of feet pounding up the stairs and my door busting open reveals a pale-faced, freckle covered Kyle in a green cows sweatshirt, dark blue jeans, and black converse. He walks over and sits on my bed where I'm laying with a pillow on my head. I groan a hello and Kyle throws an Asprin my way.

"This'll help," he said, pulling out his phone. "What'd I tell you about drinking, though, Stan?"

I push myself up onto my elbows to give him a look before flopping down again. I roll over to stare at my purple walls before muttering, as if to myself, "I saw him again."

I hear Kyle reposition himself on the bed but he doesn't respond. I continue.

"I was at Stark's again and I saw him. We talked and he said 'Stay golden' before he disappeared." I turned to look at Kyle who was looking at a spot in my room with his eyebrows furrowed. "It's like he was a magician! Maybe I'll see him again an-"

"Stan, have you thought of seeing someone?"

I stop mid-sentence to completely face Kyle. He's looking at me with the same look my dad was giving me earlier. No, I thought, not Kyle too.

"What do you mean?" I countered, scooting closer. I knew exactly where Kyle was getting at, I was just hoping he didn't mean what I thought he meant. Oh God, please don't let him mean it that way.

"Well," he started, looking for the right words. "I don't know, just.. a therapist Stan. A doctor, even. I mean come on," He gestured with his hands in exasperation at me, like Wendy did when she broke up with me. A shiver shuddered through my body at the memory. "You're always talking about some guy that nobody in this town remembers! And this town knows who everybody is for Pete's sake." He shook his head. "Everyone's getting sick of it, I'm getting sick of it." He sighed, closing his eyes before opening them to look me straight into my eyes, but with concern this time. "You need to let it go."

Let it go. That sentence rang in my mind. Let it go? Let go of someone who once existed, who we had 10 years of memories with? Let go an actual human being? How can you possibly let that go?

My palms started to sweat and I could feel my vision start to blur. No, I wasn't going to cry in front of Kyle over this. I looked down at my dirty socks before sputtering, "You can leave, now."

"What?" Kyle asked in disbelief, hurt flashing in his eyes. "Come on dude, I'm trying to help you. I care about you, Stan." His voice started to shake. Kyle is a passionate guy after all, especially about topics such as these. "I just want what's best for you."

"If you care about me, you will leave and I'll talk to you at school tomorrow, okay?" I bit the inside of my mouth so hard I could taste blood. Crying is a sign of weakness, I won't cry.

Kyle nodded slowly and got up from the bed quickly. It creaked from his weight being lifted off so suddenly, and he patted my shoulder as if to reassure me that everything is okay. It isn't.

"I love you, dude, okay? I'll just.. I'll see you tomorrow." He gave me a long look and left my room, shutting the door behind him softly. I heard the sound of his converse descending down the stairs until the noise slowly stopped altogether. I heard him say goodbye to my father and the front door close. I stopped biting the inside of my mouth.

At that moment, the tears flowed and ran down my face in such a frenzy that wiping my eyes did little to no use. I put my face on the pillow to hide my heart-wrenching sobs from being heard from the outside world.

Kenny was real, I mused, I know I'm not insane, or sick. I can't be insane. What occurred last night felt real because it was. Kenny would believe me because he always did. No matter what happened or what the situation was, he always believed me. He always cared. He always-

Crying is a sign of weakness, but I still cried.

A/N; wow I haven't updated in forever and lost inspiration for my two stories but I'll try and continue this one + I have a fic I'm ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN that will be coming soon I'm such an inconsistent writer :/