Jesus tap-dancing Christ it was cold. The trees above him were moving gently, getting closer together then pulling apart, and everything was…turning. Or maybe he was the one turning, he couldn't be sure. Stan pulled himself up slowly, until he was sitting, leaning back on his elbows. He was at Stark's pond, and it was early morning. Shit, he was freezing. He didn't even try to remember how he'd got here, he just pulled out his phone - thank fuck that hadn't been stolen while he lay here - and sent Kenny a text. On the bright side he wasn't hungover yet, he was still quite drunk and if he wasn't so fucking frozen he'd probably still be in a nice buzz.

There was an early morning frost on the ground, which wasn't unusual in March, and temperatures at night were perilously cold. Stan could barely even move his fingers to send the text as they were curled up and numb; he felt like if he hadn't woken up when he did he might have died out here. Well maybe not, but he had never felt cold like it. Actually that was a good thing though wasn't it? It's when you feel hot that you're in real trouble...he was pretty sure he remembered that from somewhere. The text he sent was barely decipherable - he had mashed at his phone until something only vaguely resembling 'Stark's pond' was written - but hopefully it was enough to get Kenny there. A couple of attempts to stand up were quickly abandoned, so he just tucked his hands under his arms to try and keep his fingers from dropping off and sat tight. A small chunk of last night's events surfaced in is mind, as he remembered his argument with Kyle, and then wandering around after realising he had no idea where Token lived anymore since his parents sold the massive-ass mansion. Thank fuck he hadn't found Token, that was definitely a positive. How that led to him lying on his back in a public place pissed out of his mind was another story. An all too familiar feeling crept up from his stomach at that point, and Stan turned onto his side and threw up on the frosty grass. He then dry heaved a couple of times before lying back, more than a little disgusted with himself. He was on a bank about a dozen yards from the water, and at the foot of the bank was an empty bottle of Bell's whiskey. Well that was one mystery solved anyway; he had bought that at Denver airport in the duty free, knowing he would need it to survive living at home again. Possible reasons for the drink weren't exactly difficult to come by either, seeing as Kyle hated him, he was living with his parents and nobody really wanted him here. He was such an idiot sometimes, thinking that he could run away from his problems and everyone here would welcome him back with open arms. He had spent god knows how long trying to leave them behind, trying to fit in with everyone in New York. It wasn't that people weren't nice there, some of them really were, it was just him. He didn't want to go clubbing with them, he didn't want to listen to their jokes or bitch about their boss together, he didn't want to be there. In reality he hadn't been trying to fit in at all, he had been trying to blend in, to seem like part of the crowd to avoid being asked questions or actually having to engage with them. Now he was back where he thought maybe he had belonged all along and he felt alone here too, like a stranger in his own town. He battled down a second wave of nausea just as he saw some beaten up vans appear by the side of his head.

"You fucking idiot, Stan! C'mere" Kenny wrapped his arms under Stan's and hauled him up, leaning the larger boy against him and beginning to edge down the bank.

"s-sorry, Ken" Stan slurred, but his mind was struggling to stop thinking about how alone he felt, even while being held by another person.

"What were you thinking? I didn't know you were still doing this, Stan..." Kenny stumbled a little as he spoke, but quickly regained himself and carried on walking.

Stan didn't reply. He was past that phase of his life - the worst phase - where he had to drink just to keep going, but he still needed it sometimes when things got really bad. He was manoeuvred into the passenger seat and strapped in, before Kenny produced a bucket and put it on his lap.

"If you chuck up over my truck I'm leaving you by the side of the road, that's a fucking promise." With that Kenny began driving them back, eyeing Stan warily from time to time without saying anything. He was either concerned for him or concerned for the truck. Most probably the second, Stan thought.

"Why did you do it?" He asked again eventually. Stan was mistaken, he could tell from the tone of Kenny's voice that he was actually worried, and he didn't seem angry enough at having to get up and drive to get him at this time on a weekday morning.

"Fun." He was being awkward, but he was in no fit state to seriously discuss his feelings. The movement of the truck was churning his unsettled insides and speaking felt like an effort. A monster headache was rearing its ugly head as well, as he was sobering up. Normally you wake up to a hangover, but there's something worse about being awake to feel it develop. He responded to some insult Kenny hurled at him with a groan and projectile vomiting into the bucket on his lap. Luckily it was pretty well aimed, as he didn't want to upset his helper any more than he already had done. He only just noticed that at some point Kenny had given him his coat - actually he must have brought an old coat with him as he was still wearing his - and Stan would have been filled with nostalgia upon realising it was his orange parka if his senses weren't already entirely consumed by his hangover and the taste of sick. It was quite small, Kenny had never bought a new one after he turned about sixteen, and it was such a symbol of their childhood and every happy thought and naive hope Stan had felt that it only added to his nausea.

He must have drifted off at some point on the car ride, because he woke up in a warm bed with only a small recollection of being helped up the stairs in a sleepy trance. He had no idea what time it was, but his feeling was that it was late. He felt like shit, and his fingers still hurt for some reason. There were a couple of tablets and a glass of water on the bedside table, but as Stan reached over he was horrified to see the tips of a couple of his fingers were a deep purple, almost black colour. He had gotten fucking frostbite. Jesus he was a moron, but it didn't look too bad; he had seen it once before when his dad had stayed outside his failed blockbuster's store in the freezing snow for hours, and his had been worse and healed up. He swallowed the tablets and took a few swigs of water before looking around properly at what must be Kenny's bedroom, since it was a one-bed apartment. That realisation made him freak out for a second at the thought of what might have gone on in that very bed, but it was too late to fix now. The room was very Kenny, quite cheery colours (a blue/white theme) and no real posters or pictures on the walls; instead there were unusual and funny newspaper headlines and some exotic items Kenny had collected on his travels (including a sign warning of 'Kangaroos on the road' which he must have picked up in Australia). Stan envied the fact that Kenny had done six months of travelling after high school and had managed it without any money, hitching rides and working odd jobs everywhere he went to afford flights and living costs, and seeing the world. Eventually Stan hauled himself up and saw some jeans and a t-shirt left out for him (which reminded him Kenny must have had to help him out of his damp clothes, another embarrassing drunken moment).

Stan edged the door open and stepped into the living area/kitchenette. He remembered it well from last time he had visited, and it hadn't changed at all except there was a blond woman sitting on the couch.

"Head hurt much sweety?" She laughed. She had a real sort of twang to her accent, reminding Stan vividly of Carol, which was weird to say the least.

"I've had worse. Thanks for letting me stay, and I'm really sorry about it all..." He had to admit she was attractive. Really attractive, but in the way a beautiful painting or a picturesque mountain view is, not in the I-want-to-screw-your-brains-out way. To be honest Stan couldn't remember the last time a girl had made him feel that way. He had spent the last couple of years admitting to himself that he was at least bi-curious, but if seeing a woman who was clearly conventionally attractive wearing a fairly low-cut top did nothing for him then maybe even that was living in denial.

"It's fine, Stan. I'm Cassidy, by the way, it's real great to finally meet you." She placed her hand on Stan's shoulder.

"You too, I've heard a lot about you. Is Kenny at work?" He asked as he took a closer look at her. She looked about 5ft 2 or 3, and had shoulder length, straight blond hair and a petite figure, but with larger tits than you'd expect. Exactly the sort Kenny always goes for. He couldn't quite tell if they were fake or not, they were within the realms of possibility, even for a girl of her build. Even though she had a nice smile and only wore a little too much make up, Stan didn't think she seemed genuine for some reason, though he was probably being unfair.

"Yeah he left about three hours ago, I work an evening shift on Friday's so I'm still hangin' around. You want some cereal?" She pulled a bowl out and some boxes from the cupboard as she spoke, and when Stan opened his mouth to politely decline and get out from under her feet she pre-emptively stopped him.

"Hunny you need some food in you, painkillers and water won't settle that stomach - I would know. Now sit down and eat something." She pulled a chair from the breakfast bar out and stood there for a couple of seconds until Stan relented. To be fair he and Kenny shared a similar love of childish cereals, so the choice of Fruit Loops, Cookie Crisp and Coco Pops was exactly what he was craving. If he had been alone he would probably have mixed all three, but it would just have to be Fruit Loops for now (though he made a mental note to stock up on cereal himself).

The kitchen was an off-white colour and in need of a refurb; the chair he was sitting on had a wobble and the units looked a little beaten up. As you came into the apartment you entered the living room, and the kitchen was in a sort of mini-alcove to your left. A big, forty plus inch TV dominated the room, which shared the kitchen's paint scheme but had a nice weathered wooden floor. Maybe that sort of floor was lurking under the manky blue carpet back at his place in New York, but he was far lazier and less talented at DIY than Kenny so he'd probably never find out.

"I'm gonna go take a shower, holler if you need anything." Cassidy swayed her hips exaggeratedly as she walked, enough to make Stan think it might be for his benefit, but he hoped not.

"Oh well I'll take off in a sec, so see you soon and thanks again." Stan smiled at her and she threw him a wave before disappearing into the bathroom. If Stan knew Kenny's type - and she looked like Kenny's type - then she would be a temporary fixture of this place. Attractive and probably kinky as hell in the bedroom, usually pretty easy going as well, but not what someone like Kenny needed. Kenny was damn smart, despite his struggles with school and grades. Stan knew it but he wasn't sure how many other people did. He was curious and quick witted, but he stayed away from women who might be a match for him like the plague. He needed someone to challenge him, or at least that was Stan's opinion. He took off his amateur psychiatrist hat and finished off his cereal before heading out; he needed to see a doctor about his fingers, which he had skilfully hidden either at his side or in his pocket to avoid worrying Cassidy. This had all been a welcome distraction (even the frostbite in a way), but once it was sorted he had some urgent business to attend to.

"Hi guys" Kyle stepped inside and hugged his parents in turn.

"How is my bubbeleh?" Sheila enveloped him in an enormous hug, and when Kyle felt breathless he realised just how in need of bulking up he was.

"I'm fine, where's Ike?" Kyle missed Ike the most, and his parents had moved way outside of town when they sold the house as everything was cheaper out here. Without a car it meant seeing Ike was a more occasional thing, a lengthy bus ride away.

"He went to a friend's house after school, I told him to go have fun and we'd take him to see you soon." Gerald grabbed Kyle's coat and gloves and hung them over a banister. "How is work going?"

"It's the same really, boring but it has to be done. Hopefully I'll find something better soon…" His dad always wanted to talk about work, and Kyle was acutely aware that he had hoped to discuss law or business with his son, not how many people he rung up to harass about home insurance. Kyle didn't want to mention the suspension either, since although he had come here to – if he was perfectly honest – see if he could perhaps get help from his parents, he had realised as soon as he got there he couldn't go through with it. Actually being reminded of the shitty, tiny house they lived in now, basically a glorified shed with just three rooms and one bed made him feel too bad already.

"How will you find a better job when you have to work all the time already?" Sheila asked as she set out three plates for dinner. "It's just so terrible!"

"I'll figure it out mom, don't worry." That was a completely vacuous statement, especially considering Kyle had spent most of the last 12 hours intermittently sobbing and raging, eating whatever handful of items he'd actually had in his freezer before they went bad without the power. He was pretty sure this was rock bottom; it could only get better from here. He wasn't falling into the old movie cliché of thinking that just before it starts pissing rain down on your head either, as metaphorically speaking that storm was already happening; he was at his parents' house purely to scrounge a free meal, he still hadn't gotten electricity back and (probably most importantly) he had driven away his best friend. He was right, and Stan was being a dick, but still the thought of Stan being angry with him was agony. He had loved the time they had spent just relaxing before everything had to turn sour, and Kyle had to admit it was partly his fault. He was pretty sure he had actually worked the problem out but just couldn't fix it. For his whole life he had been strong minded, independent and able, but now he was weak and needy. The thought that not only did he crave Stan, get excited at his touch and captivated just by looking at him, or the way his lips move as he laughed, but that he might actually need him to help with this as well was too much. He didn't like that anyone could have that kind of power over him and be oblivious, carrying on living a fucking perfect comfortable life while he suffered. Kyle realised his dad was giving him a concerned look because he'd spaced out a little, so he just smiled and walked through to the tiny cupboard of a kitchen to see if his mom needed help.

He tried his best to make the dinner uneventful and avoid awkward questions, and he mostly succeeded barring a couple from his mom on his lack of girlfriend. He was fairly sure his parents suspected he might be gay (after all he had shown no interest in women for about year after year) but he had never actually said it out loud to anyone, not even Kenny who just seemed to have eventually worked it out for himself. After protracted goodbyes and a promise to arrange to meet up with Ike he finally got out of the house and began walking to the bus stop, since despite his protests his dad had sold the car the last time a loan had been critically overdue. He had refused their offer again of moving in, since at the moment at least he didn't have to pay rent (the house belonged to one of his dad's clients who owed him a favour) and they were just too far away from his work. Anyway fitting one more person into that house would be a challenge for a Tetris master it was so small. He felt his phone buzz in his front pocket, and was a little disappointed when it wasn't from Stan. Stan always apologised on the rare occasions they fought; he knew Kyle was far too stubborn to back down, but this time he had still heard nothing. Maybe Stan being mad was a good thing anyway, since he was only around for a month and it would only pointlessly inflame Kyle's stupid infatuation. He was fed up of spending weeks missing Stan, and fed up of the ridiculously in depth imaginary scenarios that seemed to be constantly running in his head, where Stan felt the same way after all and they share a passionate kiss. He had imagined what sharing an apartment would be like, or if they ran off on some sunny holiday together, as well as picturing in a million different ways what it would be like in bed. Thinking about how big Stan is or what a not-drunken kiss with him might taste like occupied a large amount of his working day, and that would maybe be helped if this fight was terminal for their friendship. After all, he had been pretty cruel and Stan is ridiculously sensitive for someone as jocky and masculine as he is. That was one of the things Kyle loved most about him though, and he felt guilty for hurting him even if it was quite deserved.

Had a great idea since Stan and Token are back. School reunion. Organising now – Kenny

Oh for fuck's sake, that was the last thing he needed at the moment.

Awful idea, please god no – Kyle

Don't be such a killjoy wet-bag, Broflovski – Kenny

Seriously I'd rather spend an evening being waterboarded – Kyle

Too late, sent invitations. It will be fun I promise! – Kenny

He remembered then what he had said about not falling into the trap of 'nothing could get any worse' too soon. The metaphorical thunderstorm of shit was now looming as well in the form of an evening of embarrassment and laughter behind his back, with his old class mates and his current boss having a great joke at his expense. Look at the kid who thought he was smart, the kid who scored well in tests and corrected grammar.

Things can always get worse.

So I know that was both late and a little crap, but I had a very busy week! Also I forgot a disclaimer, so as usual I own nothing. Finally a quick thank you to all who have followed or supported this story, I have big plans for it! In particular nemo1934 who has been hugely encouraging and helpful. Next chapter should be up fairly soon if all goes to plan! ciao