"You sure you don't want me to stay here?" Stan asks and I nod. I've already bothered him enough today, and I don't think he wants to be stuck in the Nurse's Office with me as company. "Are you sure sure?"

"Yes, Stan, I'm sure sure." I roll my eyes at him, knowing he just wants an excuse to miss class.

"Then I'll try to stay awake in class for you! Get well soon, dude." He grins at me before hurrying outside. He's, what, ten minutes late already? Well, not like that matters to Mr. Garrison, he'll let anyone in class as long as he gets to teach.

Anyway, now I'm alone, with my pretty little red bruises. So much for freaking out and slamming myself into a locker repeatedly, right? At least I made a kid happy. That's all that matters.

Still, I can't forget how Butters shook in my arms as I held him. I felt as if I was holding myself, my true self — the one that hid behind an explosive temper and a colorful vocabulary. I know, deep down, that he's there even though I'm gaining confidence through my friends. He'll always be here, inside me, to keep on reminding me of my past. Kyle Barflovski will never let me rest. Every time I close my eyes, I am reeled into the horror of yesterday. Okay, that's a bit exaggerated, but I do get reminded of it every now and then.

Hey, it's not my fault I had the jitters! And, uh, decided to show the entire student body what I had for breakfast that day. Totally not my fault! It was all okay at first, when I thought everyone would move on and forget the whole thing. Uh-huh, until some asshole decided to immortalize it on YouTube, where it will haunt me for the years to come.

A bit surprised how my viral video didn't reach South Park, but it's definitely for the better. I can't even imagine the look on Stan's face if he ever discovers my secret. Oh god, Cartman would torment me endlessly and Kenny would find a way to turn it into an innuendo. Don't ask me how, Kenny just has that kind of talent. But, damn, I would lose all my friends in an instant!

And I would be back to being Kyle Barflovski. I hate that nickname much more than I hate Cartman, and that says a lot.

If that video got around, people would have a reason to bully me again. I have experienced enough harassment to scar me till I die — and maybe even after that! — I surely don't need more now. All I need is some fucking rest.

Speaking of rest, ugh, my head is starting to hurt. My parents are on their way to pick me up. I don't want to be awake when they arrive.


"Barflovski?"

Huh?

"Kyle Barflovski."

Don't call me that! Wait...

"What an ugly nickname Barflovski is. Cartman was right. You really are a nerd, Kyle."

...Stan, dude, is that you?

"Don't call me that! I'm not your dude anymore!"

W-What?

"I'm not your damn friend."

Stan...?

"You're hopeless, do you know that? Stop convincing yourself that you matter, because you don't! You wanna know what's real?"

No?

"Well, it goes like this: 'Fuck you, Kyle, you're a piece of shit!'"

...

"Just wake up, Kyle!"

I bolt upright, feeling like someone sucked all the life out of me. Beads of cold sweat were forming at my forehead, and I have never felt so scared. My eyes adjust to my surroundings, turns out I'm in my room. That's nice. So it was just a dream then.

But why Stan?

It's around this time I notice the dip on my bed. Hey, Ike better not be sleeping next to me. Lord knows how much that little rascal tosses and turns in his sleep, it's downright annoying! He even snores way worse than our dad — hold on, no one's snoring.

No way.

"What are you doing here?!" Screaming, I push the poor boy off my bed.

"Hey, what'd you do that for!" Stan mutters as he stands up, eyes riddled with sleep.

"I said," I take a deep breath, "what are you doing here? In my bed, too!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's just that, uh, I heard you passed out once I left for class. You had me worried sick, dude, like my stomach got upset and stuff! Told ya I should've stayed."

Dude.

The word that makes my stomach do backflips — don't ask why. We've done it guys, he still calls me dude! Hell yeah!

Masking my happiness, I turn my back to him. "That doesn't answer my question."

"Look, I came over to see if you were okay and..."

"And?"

"I've been here since three o'clock."

"So?" Cut to the chase already, damn.

"It's abouuuut, uh, ten now?"

Damn indeed.

The blood rushes to my cheeks and I turn around to face him again. Raising my hands, I exclaim, "No way, Stan!"

He has this 'I told you so' smirk on his face as he shifts all his weight on one foot, in his hand is my digital alarm clock. "Yes way, Kyle."

He's right, it just turned 10PM. In my shock, I throw a pillow right at him and it misses completely (on purpose!). Does this mean he cares for me? God, only one way to find out:

"So... we are friends?"

I can't help but laugh at Stan when his posture turns rigid, his fingers losing their grip on the pillow. He looks like a comically shocked character, like the ones I see on TV! I bet some higher power could insert a shock sound effect right about now, and oh god, that would be too perfect.

"You wound me!" Stan goes on, putting both of his hands on his chest, as if I actually stabbed him in the heart. He looks horrified and I continue laughing at him, doubling over.

Stan lets my laughter die down before speaking again, "But, seriously though, we are friends."

Oh, man, never knew I'd make a friend this soon, never knew it would be someone like Stan. I thought I'd be stuck with the shy kids, never interacting unless we were at school.

I swipe at my eyes that were threatening to spill happy tears. "I know, dude, just wanted to make sure." Jumping off the bed, I swing an arm around his shoulders and he stumbles a bit. "I'm guessing Mom called us down to eat?"

He blinks. "Uh, I don't know?"

"What?"

He blinks twice. "I don't know, dude."

I narrow my eyes at him, sliding away. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." My hands come between us, palms facing him. "So you're telling me that Mom, the worried parent she is, didn't call us for dinner?"

"No, I'm telling you I don't know."

Matching his annoyed tone, I ask, "Well, what do you mean you don't know?"

"That I kind of dozed off after sometime?" Dude, I cannot believe Stan Marsh right now. "Hey, man, I was sleepy, okay?"

Slowly, I point a finger to where my bed is. "You really were sleeping over...?"

He rubs his hands all over his face, groaning, "Kyle, why is that such a big deal? God!"

I don't know, too, but for some reason I'm bothered! Is it because it's my bed and he didn't ask for my permission? Is it because he's invading my privacy? "Because, dude, that's gay!" Wait, I am definitely not bothered by that!

My hands fold over my mouth, desperately wishing for the words to not reach Stan's ears. Stupid mouth of mine!

But he only laughs at me, "How is that gay?" I don't know how to react, so I laugh with him instead, albeit rather awkwardly.

"Oh yeah!" I pretend to hit myself on the forehead. "Silly Kyle!" This is so fucking humiliating. Fuck me. Why did I ever think that sleepovers were gay? Friends probably do them all the time!

Sensing my discomfort, Stan gives me a worried grin. "Kyle, you are so weird."

Hah. I drop the entire act, feeling tired even though I just woke up. "Nah, I'm hungry." And, as if on cue, my stomach growls.

His eyes widen at the deep rumbling. "Very hungry." Gaze back at me, he asks, "Wanna grab some dinner downstairs? It's my place, after all!"

I roll my eyes at him. "Ha-ha, Stan, you're so hilarious."

"That's what they all say!" He grabs my hand and pulls me out of my room, having the audacity to shush me when I tell him to pipe down.

I don't know if my parents are aware of how weird my new friend is. I don't even know if they're aware I'm weird. I don't know shit, man.


It's been a month and I would say I'm more than satisfied with South Park Elementary. The happiest I've been at school for like, years. I'm already friends with half of my classmates and Cartman doesn't rip on me that much now. Heh, not after Stan got enough of his senseless bickering last week. He actually punched the fat boy square in the face! Totally surprised the both of us when Wendy came to Cartman's rescue. I thought she was Stan's girlfriend?

Because, you know, right now I'm sort of being interrogated by the girls. Led by Ms. Testaburger herself, of course.

"I'm sure you know why we called you here, Kyle," she begins. Bebe and Red were behind her, talking in their own secret girl language. I try not to eavesdrop, but I hear the words sunshine, sparkles, and gay. Hold up, gay?

Before I could even reply, Wendy goes on to say, "I'm also sure you know that Stan Marsh is, as a matter of fact, my boyfriend."

"Uh, yes?" I scratch my head, not really knowing why they had to meet me at the back of the school for this crap. Everyone knows you don't fuck with Wendy Testaburger. Especially not with her relationship with Stan. Let's see, I guess even possessive wouldn't be enough to describe her. Yep. Some even say she had a teacher killed for allegedly flirting with Stan! For flirting with Stan!

Peering at them, I could see Wendy whisper to Bebe and Red, who both nod. Moments pass with me standing there, doing my best not to listen in. Hellooo, I'm getting bored at an alarming rate. "Look, Wendy, why am I here? I've got a basketball game with the guys in a few—"

Their heads turn to me in unison, making me shut up as chills go down my spine. Talk about creepy! "And Stan will be going, right?" Bebe asks, a clean brow raised at me.

"Well, duh?" They do not like my response. I repeat, they do not like my response. Quick, explain! "I mean, Stan and I are always on the same team, and he rarely misses after-school Friday games. So, yeah, he'll definitely be there."

"Always on the same team?" Red repeats my words. She has her hands on her hips, looking at me as if I've done something wrong. "Like, do you guys pick or is it like, rock-paper-scissors?" She follows up before I could respond to her previous question.

"We pick?" I say and it comes out more like a question.

"You're not sure?" It's Wendy who's asking. "Enlighten me, Kyle, do you pick Stan or does Stan pick you?"

The three of them are glaring daggers at me, and I pray to all the gods that I don't fucking die here. Could Stan walk in? Or Kenny? Heck, even Butters or Cartman would do! 'Cause girls can be hella scary when they want to and these girls in particular definitely are.

I gulp down the large lump on my throat, making sure my voice won't come out strained. I have to look tough right now. Fuck you, Barflovski. "Sometimes I pick him and sometimes he picks me. It works both ways."

They all gasp, hands shooting to their mouths. I would've laughed at their stricken expressions if I weren't the one cornered here! Among the three of them, Wendy looked the worst. She was moaning and stumbling, pretending to faint and land in the other girls' arms. Drama queen alert.

"Look at what you've done!" Bebe shrieks, her free hand pointing an accusing finger at me.

Throwing my hands to the air, I shriek back, "Hey, I didn't do anything!" Bebe rolls her eyes at me and Red shakes her head before the two of them drag Wendy away.

"It's okay, Wends." I could still hear Bebe as they turn around the corner. "None of us knew Stan was gay."

Wait, wait, wait, Stan is gay? No way, dude! Did they see how hard he smacked Cartman last Tuesday? That's what I would call a manly punch, my friends, if there ever is one. Girls are just crazy as always, making up lies and rumors for the fun of it. Stan would never swing the same side—OH SHIT.

I get it now, they think I'm fucking gay! And as if the idea could be any more far-fetched, they think I'm gay for Stan!

Bless me, I think I'm going to be sick.


"You okay, Kyle?" Kenny asks, plopping down the bench. He throws me a water bottle and I catch it. After muttering my thanks, I chug the entire drink. The cool liquid trickles down my chin and I wipe the trail away with the back of my hand.

"I'm okay. Thanks again, Ken."

He rests a hand on my shoulder and gives me a hum of approval, though it sounded reluctant. He already knows I'm lying, huh? Maybe he could sense it through his hand right now, all the discomfort I try to hide.

So we sit there, side by side, watching the other boys play. My eyes follow Stan, who currently has the ball. He dribbles past Token and Craig, oh, it looks like he's going for three points and — he gets it!

"What are you smiling for?" Kenny snickers from beside me and I scowl at him.

"I wasn't smiling."

He shrugs and adjusts the towel on his neck, pulling it up to hide his smirk. "Whatever you say, Kyle."

I huff and look away. That smirk was definitely suggesting something! So I guess even Mr. Kenny McCormick thinks he knows everything huh? Well, he doesn't, because even I don't know anything! Ugh. Fuck Kenny and the girls, man, they think about my friendship with Stan a bit too much. I don't like him romantically, we're friends, that's all! End of discussion... though I somehow do end up staring at him throughout the entire game. We won the match and, actually, you know what? Stan is kinda cute when he smiles — but he's just my friend and I'm just his friend. I'm not gay, not at all.

Definitely.

Not.

Gay.

M'kay?

Goddamn it, now I'm starting to talk like Mr. Mackey.

Kenny, you bastard.


"Hey, Kyle, you have got to see this."

My eyes shoot open at the voice. I shuffle off my bed, yawning as I make my way toward Stan. This was the usual scenario every night he slept over — him on my computer and me actually trying to sleep. He somehow managed to sway my mom to push the internet curfew past midnight. And Stan, being him, takes advantage of all that time by watching cute dog videos and also by looking at memes. But I occasionally hear him swear over an argument he and Wendy would have on Facebook. Thank goodness I don't have to deal with all that relationshit.

"Let me guess: more dogs?"

"Nope," he says, popping the p, "it's Wendy." I frown at the name, wondering what she might turn into a fight this time. Stan scoots over to make space for me on the chair and I make myself comfortable next to him. Leaning over, I read the message:

Stan, I'm sorry for saying this, but I think your new friend Kyle is gay... for you. I'm really sorry! :(

My mouth drops open. What an utter bitch.

"She's crazy!" Stan gestures to the monitor, hands bobbing in a maniacal manner.

I glare at him. "But she is your girlfriend."

He sinks down the chair, burying his face in his hands. "Dude, I don't even know why we're together."

Sweet Jesus Christ doing backflips on a tightrope, Stan is hopeless. "Then why don't you leave her?"

His expression screams incredulous, like I just told him to jump off a cliff. "What — are you serious?"

"Dead serious." I'm not kidding, I honestly think Stan and Wendy don't deserve each other. Besides, they're too young to be dating. At this age, we should be worrying about good manners and right conduct! But I don't complain when Stan calls my name.

"Kyle, look, I know this sounds sappy and shit, but," he pauses to look me in the eye. I gulp at his intense stare. "I love her, with or without her craziness."

For some reason, his words sting and I do nothing but nod. I try to smile at him, blinking away tears that I didn't know were forming. Damn. I don't want him to see me like this. Not right now.

Still forcing a smile on my face, I croak, "Then I'm happy for you, really." And I walk back to my bed. "Good night, Stan." My voice almost breaks at his name, but I wave it off.

"Wait, dude, was that too sappy?"

I almost laugh at his surprised tone.

No, Stan, it hurt.


A/N: Yes. Hello. I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit all over the place? I'll get better for all of you! OH! AND I REALLY APPRECIATE EVERYONE OMG ;~; y'all be making me cry. Thank you guys, I love every single one of you. I really will get better. (also uhm i chose barflovski because it sounded like broflovski and wow now i guess you all know that i dont actually have a plan for this fanfic and i'm winging it every chapter and oh god im rambling im sorry!) ((oh and do u guys think i should change the genre to hurt/comfort and change the summary since it's kinda like false advertising? lol i'm overthinking this. again.))

Leave a review if you'd like (constructive criticism is highly appreciated!). Lots of love to I'mFromRussia and Knifeboy! *insert heart here uwu*