Hey guys, sorry for the short chapter this time. I didn't know where to go with this and I'm trying to add as much detail as I can into this story, but this one just ended up short. There's more dialogue so I didn't get to add as much detail as I normally do.

I'll post a new chapter in the next couple days unless it get a few more reviews soon. I'm revising and editing the next chapter now, so it should be done soon.

Please leave a review if you liked it, it helps me post more chapters and gives me the motivation to write more. Thanks and enjoy.

It had been two hours. The power still hadn't come back on. It was darker outside now, opposed to earlier when the sun was just creeping its way behind the Colorado snowcapped mountains. Stan and Kyle sat playing a board game by candle light.

"Sorry, move back to home square," Kyle said, booting Stan's pawn off the board. "That's the third time in the last few turns."

"You're good at this game, dude." Stan complemented, and Kyle smiled.

"I have family game night every Wednesday with my parents and Ike. We play this game all the time. I wish we had other games. This one gets boring quickly."

"We can play a different one afterward," Stan offered. "We have lots more."

"Okay," Kyle answered. "You can pick this time."

Realization hit Kyle like a speeding car. "Shit, I was supposed to call my mom over an hour ago!"

Kyle fished out his phone from his jacket pocket, and speed dialed the number.

"Hey mom, it's Kyle."

There was incoherent rambling that Stan could hear but only made out a few words that sounded like "We were worried sick about you!"

"Yes, we're fine." Kyle rolled his eyes. "The power went out two hours ago. Sorry, my phone was on silent, so no, I didn't see your calls."

After a short 'I was so worried about you two' spiel, Kyle hung up the phone.

"The game's probably over by now, dude." Kyle sighed, removing himself from the floor and plopping down on the couch. Stan did the same. "And I'm getting tired."

"Same." Stan answered.

Kyle's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the arm of the chair, resting on his arm. Stan leaned back in his spot, making sure he didn't fall into Kyle. "So tired…" Stan yawned, and with that, he fell asleep.

Stan had slumped over and was sleeping on Kyle's shoulder, and Kyle was sleeping on his arms leaning up against the arm of the couch.

Kyle's eyes fluttered open as he felt a weight on his shoulder.

"Stan, wake up," Kyle nudged his friend off of him carefully. "What time is it? It looks so dark out…"

Stan sat up. "W-what…" he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

Kyle picked up his phone and peered at the digital timestamp. "Dude, it's one in the morning. Our parents were supposed to be home hours ago. Oh, I got a missed call…" He clicked the voicemail and began listening to it.

The speaker blared "KYLE, LEARN TO ANSWER YOUR PHONE! YOU'LL ANSWER IT IN A HEARBEAT IF STAN CALLS, BUT NOT YOUR OWN MOTHER!"

Kyle flushed red, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear.

"Anyway, bubbie, we will be staying at a hotel for the night. There's seven feet of snow out there and it's still coming down. Call me back when you get this message."

And with that, Kyle began to call his mother. "God, I'm going to get it now… that message was left over an hour ago…"

"KYLE! You're father and I were worried sick!"

"I'm sorry mom, Stan and I fell asleep and-"

There was incoherent rambling on the other line.

"Yes, everything's fine." Kyle sighed. "We will be fine for another day, we promise."

There was silence, and then something that sounded like an "Okay" on the other line.

Kyle hung up.

"God, she worries too much."

"What do you wanna do now?"

Kyle shrugged.

His mind wondered back to the thing he saw in Stan's bedside drawer, and he thought this may be the perfect time to ask about it, though he was nervous to question.

Stan jadedly picked at a thread in the carpet and some stray dirt that lay about. "I'm still pretty tired, dude. But I don't want to sleep."

"Yeah, same… there's not much we can do, really. Except for just… talk."

Just get this over with. I have to confront him about it sometime.

"Stan, have you been drinking again?" Kyle blurted out.

There was a short silence, and Stan's expression contorted in the dancing flames of the candles. He sighed.

"You saw it, didn't you…?" Stan uttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"Look, Kyle, it's just… it helps me deal with things…" Stan started again after a few agonizing seconds.

"Deal with things? You're only ten years old, Stan!" Kyle snapped. "What are you dealing with, then?"

"Just things, Kyle."

"Like what?" Kyle emphasized the words.

"I can't tell you."

"Then I fucking give up."

"If I told you, you would hate me."

"God damn it, Stan! Stop playing games! You can't do this to yourself!"

"Says who?"

"Says me! You are my best friend, dude. I can't see you spiral again!"

Stan gave up the fight and looked down at his feet. Suddenly his shoe laces were more interesting. He picked at a loose thread in one. He shifted in the couch and sighed heavily.

"Promise you won't laugh, Kyle?"

"Laugh about what, Stan?"

"I'm going to tell you a secret."