A/N: Hey guys! I am SO happy that I've finally been able to work on this! Word to the wise: the way the chapter ends, it SOUNDS like it's the end of the story, but it is NOT! I promise you Kyle still has plenty of growing to do, he's not out of the woods yet! I hope you guys enjoy this because I spent the past two and a half days working my butt off! As always, trigger warnings apply, so beware!

Surprisingly enough, when I woke up the next morning my eyes were dry. I didn't have a pit in my stomach anymore. In fact, I felt pretty fucking fantastic. I think it was the first time in a long time that I was actually able to sleep through the whole night; I don't even remember having any nightmares.

I woke up naturally, which was a first for me. When I realized I was conscious, my eyes sprung open and I jumped to look at my alarm clock. I sighed in relief when I saw the clock read 6:15 AM, five minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off and plenty of time to get ready for the day. I shut the alarm off so I wouldn't have to hear it later.

I turned to my window and noticed that the blinds were open, so I assumed that's why I woke up as early as I did. I don't know why, but I decided to look outside. Today was clearly warmer than yesterday—the sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the frost from yesterday's storm was melting fast. It looked like I'd only be needing a light hoodie for today.

I got ready in 10 minutes, which was pretty quick for me. I didn't try to rush or anything, I just felt a lot lighter on my feet. As I bounced down the stairs with my backpack in tow, I was greeted by the smell of french toast wafting through the air, causing my stomach to gurgle with desire. Well fuck, I had some time so I figured I'd stay and eat. I put my bag down next to one of the dining room chairs and took a seat next to Ike and across from my dad, who were engaging in an intense discussion about Minecraft. Once I took my seat, they looked over and acknowledged me.

"Good morning guys," I said with slightly too much enthusiasm for my liking.

"Morning buddy! Ready to take on the day?" My dad enthused, downing his coffee like his life depended on it.

I pursed my lips together in thought for a moment, and the answer quickly and easily slipped from my throat: "Yeah." After all, I got a good night's sleep, the sun was shining and I was having a hearty breakfast for once. A befitting morning for the day of my death.

I decided at that moment that if this was my last day on Earth, I was going to eat french toast and I was going to fucking savor it. My mom waltz into the dining room with a stack of plates in one hand and a stack of pancakes in the other, carrying her heavy load waitress-style.

"Good morning Kyle, I hope you slept well my little bubbe! I'm so happy you're having breakfast with us!" When my mom was really happy, her voice had a tendency to carry like that of a songbird's. It warmed me up and even made me smile, but I guess that's just how moms are supposed to make you feel.

"Me too, mom." I shot her a bright, fake-looking-but-not-actually-fake smile before proceeding to shovel an ungodly amount of french toast into my mouth, using the maple syrup on the table to wash it down.

We didn't do a whole lot of talking after that, which was truly a blessing. My family has a tendency to be very loud whenever we're all together, so starting the morning off with a quiet breakfast was just the icing on the cake for me.

After breakfast, as I gathered my things and headed for the door, my mom made sure to give me a particularly long hug and kiss before zipping my lunch bag into my backpack and waving goodbye.

• • •

The walk to the bus stop was surprisingly pleasant. Soggy as hell, but pleasant nonetheless. The snow was melting from the trees and the houses and I could feel my feet getting wetter with each step, but for some reason, I didn't even mind.

The temperature had raised considerably and the sun was shining brighter than ever. I was honestly debating taking off my hoodie—that's how warm it was. South Park having a warm day in the midst of winter was an extremely rare occurrence.

As I got closer to the bus stop, I started to notice another figure down the road who also seemed to be heading towards my destination. I squinted down the sidewalk to figure out who it was, deducting by the red pom-pom on his head that it was Stan. I could recognize that hat from a fucking mile away. I would never admit it, but the sight of that damn pom-pom actually made my legs work a little harder to get there.

"Hey dude!" I was the first to speak, uncharacteristically waving at him as I stopped in front of the old yellow sign. When I stopped, I noticed I was a little out of breath. Damn, I really wanted to see him that badly?

"Kyle, you're here early!" I could tell by his voice that he was equally happy we had some alone time. "Good thing too, I wanted to ask you something!"

I tilted my head inquisitively. It was probably something about Red. "Yeah Stan, what's up?"

"Well…" he started, as if he wasn't sure what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. "I decided not to go to football practice tonight. I was wondering… if you'd wanna come over and play video games or something instead!"

"Yeah dude, that sounds awesome!"

I gushed excitedly like a small child, without even a single thought. It wasn't until milliseconds later when I realized my horrible mistake. I immediately sunk back into myself and my heart dropped into my stomach. I couldn't change my mind after that display, could I?

My plan for tonight wasn't to go to Stan's house and play fucking Xbox. My plan for tonight was to say goodbye to pain, goodbye to loneliness, goodbye to life.

"Uh, wait—" the tone of my voice was slightly exasperated, but I doubted he'd notice. "Why are you skipping football tonight? Won't coach be pissed?"

Stan, showing no indication that he was aware of the switch that just flipped in my brain, shrugged his shoulders and exhaled loudly. "Eh, who cares? Friends are more important than football. I wanna hang out with you, dude. It's been so long. It's about damn time I started freeing up my schedule for the stuff that really matters in my life, you know?" He smiled and I could see a knowing look in his eyes. What it is that he knew, I had no clue. All I knew what that his eyes were staring into my soul and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

I knew I couldn't keep badgering him about it. Of course, I wanted to see him, but at this point I felt like it was too little, too late. He had his chance to be the friend he should have been, but now… at a time like this…

I forced myself to smile. Whether I liked it or not, I just made the decision to fuck up my entire plan and spend the night with Stan instead. I should have been excited, but I was actually dying inside. I took a big gulp before sounding out my next phrase.

"Yeah dude, I'm really proud of you."

As the conversation conveniently came to an end, Kenny and Cartman found their way to the bus stop. Kenny was the first to vocalize his presence, his positive demeanor and shaggy blond hair clearly visible and on display. "Hey guys, what's going on?!" His white teeth almost reflected off the sun as he high-fived us both. His smile was particularly infectious today and his good mood helped get me out of my momentary funk.

Cartman was only a few feet behind him. His eyes were half-lidded, tired and unenthusiastic but he took the effort to look me up and down as if he were inspecting something. "Hey Jew."

I glared at him suspiciously. I wasn't sure what I was going to be walking into at school today, but I almost found myself praying he didn't tell everyone my deep dark secret. My anxiety wanted to swell, but I didn't let it. I buried that shit deep down and put on a tough face for that son of a bitch.

"Hey fatass." I didn't have anything witty to say, and thankfully neither did he. He didn't have that evil look in his eyes that he usually does. More than that, though, he seemed really… calm. Sure, he was tired, but I've seen Cartman tired before. It was nothing compared to the solemnness that he currently embodied. I wondered why that was.

The wait for the bus was a fairly quiet one, thanks to Cartman's change in behavior. No one questioned it, but I think it was just because it's not every day you get some peace and quiet with Cartman around. Kenny lit up like a lightbulb and briefly gave us the scoop about this new girl he was really into, and how he thinks it "might be love", which actually made me really happy for him.

Before we knew it, we were on the school bus and whisked away to school, where I would nervously await my fate.

• • •

Since I was able to get a good nights sleep after what felt like an eternity of sleepless nights, I was able to actually pay attention in class. Only about half the class was there today, probably because of the refreshingly nice weather. Wendy was still there though—as if I expected her to be anywhere else. She was as studious and as beautiful as ever. Her flowing black hair and large pink beret shielded her face from my view, but I'd prefer it that way anyway. I always had to keep myself from staring at her for too long; I didn't want to freak her out and make her think I was a weirdo. If she ever caught me, I'd never be able to live it down.

Mr. Garrison's voice penetrated my ears once more, and I looked back down at my notebook to make sure I had written down the equation properly. I heard him quickly jotting something down on the blackboard, forcing my head back up to see what it was. I was about to turn my head back down to transcribe what my teacher had just written, but out of the corner of my left eye, I noticed something peculiar. Something looked out of the ordinary, and my anxiety was nagging me to turn my head just a little bit more to see exactly what it was. Safe to say, I regretted the decision almost immediately.

The first thing I noticed, above all else, were those sparkling eyes of hazel that could kill a man if she wished. Next, my vision moved to the familiarity of her long, dark strands of hair, framing her face and body like a work of art. And finally, the thing that gave me goosebumps and made every hair on my body stand on end, was that smile. That smooth, shiny, succulent smile. The smile that was directed at me.

Wendy Testaburger was staring at me. She was turned in her seat, cheek resting on her well-manicured hand, with eyes that could burn through steel.

Is it possible to feel ice cold and uncomfortably warm all at the same time? If so, that's exactly how I was feeling. I knew my face was a red hot mess; I basically had "anxiety" written on my forehead. When I realized I was staring back, I hastily turned my head down and started scribbling on my paper. I hardly cared if I ruined my notes.

Even though it was blatantly obvious how much of a nervous wreck I was, it didn't seem to matter to her. I would occasionally direct my peripheral vision in her direction, and every time I did, her face was all I could see. I wasn't sure what was going on, but it was confusing the crap out of me.

Once the bell rang, I made a quick attempt to gather up my things. Unluckily for me, I'm too clumsy for my own good—I dropped the same pen on the floor at least three times, and I kept trying to put my binders in my bag sideways, like a fucking idiot. The task was getting to be so difficult that it was starting to make me sweat.

"Hi Kyle."

I pressed my eyes together and took a long, deep breath. I'd know that sweet voice from anywhere. I turned away from the task at hand to find Wendy standing in front of my desk. Her hands were clasped behind her and she still had that glowing smile on. I tried my hardest to put on a brave face, but I couldn't help the shaking in my voice.

"Oh! U-um, hi Wendy! W-what's u-up?" I was trying hard to make eye contact but it wasn't working out so well; I looked past her small figure in spite of myself.

"Not much. Word on the street is you're in need of a tutor!" Her eyes lit up and she pumped her fist gently. 'Word on the street?' What the hell was she talking about?

I paused and shot her a curious glance, which I guess gave her the cue to continue. "Well ya see, I don't mean to brag, but I do have a lengthy resume when it comes to tutoring! Especially with math! If you let me, I'd love to help! And I wouldn't charge you, of course!" She began playing with one of her dark locks, and her smile was glistening up at me like sunbeams. How the hell was she so peppy all the time? It was because she was incredible, that's why.

Throwing caution to the wind, I figured I'd go with it. I'm not sure where on Earth she got this inaccurate information about me, but if Wendy believing I need help with math means she'll give me even a second of her time, I'll take it.

"That… sounds great, Wendy." I gave her a weak smile. I hope she could tell I meant it.

She yelped with joy, and it made my heart skip a beat. "Oh yay! Alright, here's my number!" She pulled a small piece of paper from behind her back and offered it to me. I took it gladly, even though my hand shook as I did so. "You just text me with a date and time and I'll be there, okay?"

• • •

I was starting to get extremely suspicious about my good fortune today. If I wasn't on the brink of suicide, I'd say that it was a good thing. But I made a mental note to keep reminding myself that just because I'm having an okay day, doesn't mean the rest of my life will be any better. My life as a whole was still pretty shitty. I was still expected to be someone I didn't want to be. I still had to give up all my hopes and dreams if I wanted to amount to anything. I still couldn't stand looking at myself in the mirror. Everyone around me was still blind to the pain I was going through.

Suddenly, I was thrust out of my stupor by the sound of a metal tray shaking the lunch table. My head was down and my eyes were closed, but I knew right away that it was Stan and his lunch. My eyes slowly slid open and I offered him a smile. "Hey Stan."

Stan was as chipper as ever, which nowadays is a rarity. "Hey dude, I'm excited to kick your ass in Call of Duty later." He nudged me jokingly and quickly shoved half of a slice of pizza into his mouth.

My lip quivered slightly and I looked down into my lap, half out of pity for him and half out of disgust for myself. So that's why he was so happy.

I took in a short but deep breath, pumping myself with fake energy and lifting my head up to protest. "Psh, yeah right dude, you know I'll wipe the floor with you." I sounded happy, but not overly excited like he was. Regardless, my comment made him chuckle. And when Stan laughs, I laugh. It was kind of funny, actually; things were starting to feel normal between us again.

We were having such a blast ripping on each other, we barely even noticed Cartman place himself and his giant lunchbox right in front of us. We were only reminded of his existence once he opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey you fucking gaywads, get a room!" Loud and obnoxious Cartman was back, it seemed.

Stan rolled his eyes in aggravation. "Shut up, fat boy. You sucked Butters' dick when we were 9." I had to laugh at that comment.

Cartman's face turned red in embarrassment; I almost thought his cheeks were going to explode. "You shut the fuck up Stan! I'll fucking kill you!" He sneered through his teeth before turning to me. "You too, Jew rat!"

It took me a moment to stifle my laughter. "Sorry, sorry! I couldn't help it…" He did keep my secret (or at least that's what I hoped), I guess I should at least be nice to him for today.

As the three of us settled down, I noticed someone was still missing. I looked back up at Cartman questioningly. "Oh hey, where's Kenny? I brought some extra food for him today."

Cartman rolled his eyes, either annoyed over the conversation topic or the fact that I pulled him away from his precious turkey sandwich. It turned out to be the former. "He skipped lunch so he could go and see his new girlfriend, fucking asshole. All he cares about nowadays is poon."

I shrugged, not really viewing the situation as a problem at all. "I mean, maybe it's real this time. I've never seen him care about a girl this much."

Cartman sighed in frustration. "Kyle, I know you don't get it because you're like a super virgin or whatever, but chicks will ruin your life, dude. They make you do things you wouldn't normally do, like Kenny being a love-sick idiot."

Stan reluctantly nodded his head in agreement. "Sorry Kyle, but I guess I have to agree with Cartman on this one. Kenny's probably just going through a phase with this girl."

I didn't even care that Cartman called me a super virgin and Stan didn't agree with me. I smiled anyway, partially out of spite. "Well, whatever the reason, I'm just glad Kenny is happy."

We continued to chat a little bit more about Kenny, then about football, then about Red (of course), until a tall, muscular figure stalked over to our table. He basically slammed his hands down on the tabletop to get our attention, and we all quickly turned our heads in his direction. I heaved at the sight that was towering over me: it was none other than Clyde, looking smug as always. Just when I thought my day was going well.

Stan was the first to speak up. "Hey Clyde, what's going on?" They were football buddies, so naturally they got along well and had a decent friendship.

Clyde lowered himself and bounced on his knees so he was at eye-level with us. "Not much bro. Heard you can't make it to football tonight?" He inquired, raising his left brow as he did so.

Stan shook his head. "No can do. My mom needs my help around the house tonight, you know how it is." Even though he lied to Clyde, I still felt pretty special that he was willing to skip practice for me. I tried to ignore the happiness welling up in my chest.

Clyde nodded in understanding. "Been there, got you dude." Now that I thought about it, I guess they had more in common now than ever before, considering Clyde's mom died when we were kids and he's always had the burden of doing extra work for his dad. Stan and his dad have always had a strained relationship—to be honest, I always thought he was fucking crazy. But now he's gone and Stan's not even sure when he's ever gonna see him again. I guess it is pretty sad.

Then, surprisingly enough, Clyde decided to turn his meaty-ass head in my direction and narrow his eyes at me. I froze, as if I was expecting to get punched in the jaw. "Yo Kyle, me and the guys are gonna have a little basketball tourney this weekend. You should come." I could tell by the seriousness in his voice that he wasn't trying to fuck with me.

I blinked at him for a second, like that would help affirm that I heard him correctly. "Uhh yeah sure! Thanks man!" I sounded a bit more eager than I would have liked. I hated to admit it, but I've always wanted to play basketball with Clyde and his friends, the best of the best in South Park. Even though Clyde was an asshole to me sometimes, the truth was that I envied him; I wanted to be like him.

He shot me a clever smile, stood up, and turned around on his heels without saying another word. The guys gave me some curious glances, but they didn't question the exchange they just witnessed.

Thankfully, Clyde's departure was marked by the ringing of the bell. Instinctually, we gathered all of our things, said goodbye, and headed to our respective classes.

• • •

First it was Stan. Then it was Wendy. And finally, Clyde. Now that I finally had a chance to catch my breath and put the pieces together, things were starting to seem extremely suspicious, and I think I knew just who the perpetrator was. Maybe Cartman did tell people I was going to kill myself after all, but only a select few. What for? What good would that do? Maybe he wanted people to take pity on me because he knows I would absolutely hate it. That must be it. The only thing he would ever do with the information I gave him is torture me, so it's really no surprise.

The thought of Cartman using this information to make my life even more miserable filled me with unbelievable rage. I wanted to fucking destroy him. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, I just needed to find the right time to do it.

It was 10 minutes until the end of school and everyone had already gathered their belongings from their lockers. Everyone seemed to be chit-chatting and congesting the hallways, except for one particular fat ass who seemed to be nowhere in sight… and I knew exactly where to find him.

I threw my body against the double doors leading to the back of the school, feeling the slightly chilly air tighten my skin. I allowed the doors to slam behind me, just to let him know he wasn't alone out here. The schoolyard was muddy, but I didn't care, I trudged through that shit anyway.

I rounded the corner of the brick building to find him standing there, the same place he stood yesterday, smoking another goddamn cigarette. He didn't even care that I might be a teacher or even the principal and that he could get suspended for smoking while he was still in school. Here he was, puffing away without a care in the world. He didn't even look to see who had followed him out here. Maybe it was because he already knew.

"You know those things will fucking kill you, right?" My voice was dripping with venom and he'd be an idiot to not notice.

"Yeah, but slowly." He closed his eyes and took another drag.

It pissed me off to see him so relaxed. I wanted to see some pain in that son of a bitch. My heart was burning with the desire to just fucking break his nose. Or his hand. Or any bone in his body, for that matter.

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that? You really know how to stir the fucking pot." I hissed through my teeth, wishing that looks could kill so I could be done with him forever.

Fucking finally, he turned his head towards me. Plastered on his face was the most placid look I've ever fucking seen. "What are you talking about?"

I inhaled through my nose and my chest heaved in anger. "Don't be a fucking smart ass!" I barreled over to him and shoved him up against the brick wall. He accidentally dropped the lit cigarette in his hand and I watched it fall into the mud out of the corner of my eye.

For one moment, I think I almost startled him, but it was probably just because of the cigarette. I glared daggers up at him. "I know you told them!"

I could tell he almost wanted to smile, but he fought back the urge. Instead, he rolled his eyes and barked back at me. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about Kyle. Haven't I heard enough of your gay ass problems already? Fucking pussy."

I pursed my lips together. I wanted to ball my hand into a fist and clobber the motherfucker, but I knew that wouldn't help me get my answers. "Just… please." I sounded like I was begging, but it was because I was desperate and upset and confused as all hell. "I don't understand. Everyone's been so nice to me today, and… it's all your fucking fault." My voice cracked at that last word. I hoped he didn't notice.

Cartman almost looked stunned. I still had him up against the wall, but he palmed my shoulder and easily pushed me away from him. "Kyle, why don't you trust me?"

I swear, even if he was being genuine, I could never fucking tell because he always sounds so fucking sarcastic. "Is everything a fucking joke to you?!" I basically spit in his face, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't satisfying. "You really don't know why I don't trust you? Maybe it's because of the fact that you've ripped on me for being Jewish our entire lives, and all you've ever done is made my life a living hell! That's why I don't trust you!"

The corners of his mouth turned up in a subtle smile and he snorted at me in amusement. "Those are some people lame reasons not to trust someone who's been there for you through thick and thin."

My mouth almost dropped at this bewildering statement. Regardless, I was still ready to argue. "What'd you say—"

"Let me ask you something, Kyle," he interjected. "How do you feel?"

I squinted at him in disbelieve. So now he's trying to be my fucking therapist? "Uh, I don't know. Alright I guess." I tried to making my voice sound as callous as I could, although I'm not so sure that was even possible.

Cartman drew his hand to his chin, clearly deep in thought about something. "Hmm… okay. Are you happy?"

My eyes widened at that question. I couldn't help but let a hearty chuckle escape my throat. "Happy? What kind of question is that?"

The smile dropped from my face when I looked at his. His face was now hard as stone. "Okay. I'll say it again. Are you happy?"

I bit my lip. This line of inquiry was making me extremely uncomfortable and I had no idea why. They were just simple questions, after all. "Uh… I don't know. Today was pretty good, I guess. But I'm not happy, like, in general." I look down at my feet.

We stood there in silence for at least a good minute, until the final question was asked.

"Do you still want to kill yourself?"

My heart pounded. It resonated throughout my entire body, threatening to disorient me and push me into the mud. I was starting to get dizzy at the thought of answering this fucking question. I thought of their faces. My mom, Stan, even Wendy and Clyde. My stomach churned in horrible ways I never thought possible. What was this feeling? Whatever it was, I just wanted to escape it. I wanted to escape the pain. This was why I wanted to kill myself in the first place, and yet…

My eyes were burning. There were tears in them.

"I DON'T KNOW ANYMORE!" My legs gave out and I fell to my knees. I was sniveling like the fucking idiot I was. Finally, the truth was out, but I didn't feel any better. "I… I don't know anymore. I was so sure of myself and then… and then…"

"I tried to kill myself before too, you know."

I quickly glanced up at the figure in front of me. My eyes and nose were running like crazy and my face was red from crying, but in that moment I forgot all about it. "What…?"

"Actually, I tried a few times. More than I'd like to admit. It was so gay." Cartman closed his eyes and shook his head at the memory. "Once I tried to kill myself with carbon monoxide inhalation. I tried overdosing a few times. Hell, I even tried a noose once—that's how desperate I was. But you know who was there for me through it all, the person who got me out of that shitty place? My mom."

I immediately shook my head, knowing full well what this conversation was leading up to. "I could never tell my mom, or anyone in my family. They'd go absolutely insane."

Cartman shrugged and looked up at the sky. "Maybe that's true, but you have someone else. A certain someone who I'm assuming asked you over tonight, just like I knew he would."

My wet eyes glimmered from the light of the sun. "Stan?" There was hope in my voice, a characteristic I never thought I would possess again.

He looked back down at me with tears in his eyes. They weren't falling, but they were there, and he was smiling.

"Yeah, Stan." He reached his hand out to me and I accepted it, gathering myself up off the ground and steadying myself as best as I could. "You guys are like, brothers or whatever. He'll get it."

Then, I did something I never thought I would do in a million years. I hugged him. I hugged that son of a bitch. And he hugged me back. I could feel his tears falling now because they were staining my hoodie and seeping through my shirt. I didn't care though, because it was probably the same on his end.

After that, he made me promise I would try to get better. Reluctantly, I accepted. Once again, I asked him if he said anything to Stan, Wendy or Clyde. He said he didn't, but he did say he "worked his magic" with Stan and Wendy. Clyde was just a bonus; he said he wasn't expecting him to come over to the table and ask me to play with them. He added that I must really suck at basketball if it's taken Clyde this long to include me. I told him to shut up.

Nothing felt the same after that conversation, and I don't just mean with Cartman. The sun was brighter. The grass was greener. It was as if the universe had my wellbeing in mind and it was pushing me to stay alive. And at the end of the day, if my worst enemy cared enough about me to try and keep me alive, I guess the world wasn't such a bad place after all.