This is the fourth chapter! Yay!

School is FINALLY out! I'll have loads more time to write and hopefully my story will get better...

This one's kind of weird. It was really hard writing the violence for me personally. I'm just shitty at fight scenes.

Anyway, enough stalling, here's chapter 4.


"Okay, okay. Now kids, I have no idea why you're all so unfocused today, but this is a fairly easy assignment! All you have to do is take the soccer ball and try to shoot it into the net! Now, please stop talking, we have class now!" Mr. Blue, the PE teacher, pleaded with the students. It was about 10 minutes into class already but the kids weren't paying any attention to him; they didn't have to. To put it simply, Mr. Blue had absolutely no control over his students.

Kyle wasn't even trying to make excuses to keep his grade in PE from dropping below an A (which was hard due to his underfed body) like he normally was, but rather staring off into space, trying to process what had happened with Cartman.

Kyle moved through PE like a zombie, kicking the soccer balls off the field, tripping over other people, and getting kicked by accident. By the time he got to the locker rooms he was bruised and tired. No part of him wanted to go on to 6th period, even though he knew he had to. Eventually Kyle wound his way around the school to his locker, got out his books, and made his way to his class. The rest of the day passed more or less in a blur and Kyle was impatient for the end of school so he could go to Stan and talk to him... Until he remembered the fight they'd had in the bathroom.

Who knows, maybe he'll have warmed up by the end of 7th...

Well, when Kyle left his classroom there was a note stuck to it. On it it said,

Meet me in the storage room next to the second floor girl's bathroom.

And don't be late.

~Stan

It certainly didn't look like Stan's handwriting, but Kyle was a little unnerved by having someone put a note on his locker, so he went to meet this strange impersonation. With Kyle, he felt like he could take on the world as long as he had the right strategy, and didn't seem to realize how small and delicate he was. Going to the storage room, for instance, seems like a bad idea to you or me, but Kyle doesn't even think about how much of a vulnerable position he's putting himself in.


Kyle opened the door into the empty room and was immediately pulled in. The person inside had a strong grip... And surprisingly pudgy hands.

"Cartman?!" asked Kyle, praying with every fiber of his being it wasn't the fatass who had tormented him all these years.

"You betcha, Jewfag. Now me and you are going to set things straight and I'm going to put you back in place. You have to learn that you can't talk to me like that, so I'll make it simple. Insult me like you did in PE today, and I'll beat you to death. Today will be just a taste of what I can do." Cartman's voice was smooth and vile. He was staying extremely calm as well.

Kyle thrashed about in the 6ft teen's grasp, but Cartman only laughed sadistically and threw Kyle against the wall. The injured redhead cried out in surprise and pain as his head hit the hard wall. Cartman threw a punch and hit Kyle square in the jaw, forcefully knocking his head to the side. When he tried to get up, Cartman took a fistfull of his hair and threw him into the wall again, but this time his head hit a metal bucket, making him see stars. The fat 17 year old grinned at the Jew's sobs of agony and forced the smaller boy onto the floor and then began to place kick after kick in his sunken abdomen.

"You stupid Jew, I know the way you feel about Stan." Said Cartman, taking Kyle by the hair again and holding him up off the ground at eye level. "I see the way you look at him, the way you talk to him. How many punches until little Kyle admits he's gay for Marsh?" Carman laughed a horrible sadistic laugh, dropping Kyle back onto the floor.

"One." A hand flew into Kyle's gut and he doubled over in pain.

"Two." Another fist, this time a hook to the side of his head. Kyle coughed red and grit his teeth, determined not to let Cartman win.

"Three." This one went into Kyle's nose, and his face exploded in pain. A sickening crack could be heard around the room.

"Ready yet, Jewfag? I've already broken your beautiful nose. Now there's no way Stan will love your mangled face."

Kyle spat a mixture of blood and spit into Cartman's face and the fat teen roared in disgust.

"Four!" Another into the gut. Kyle was against the wall, trying to stop the heavy stream of blood cascading out of his nose. He began to feel dizzy from the blood loss, and his vision started blurring.

"Five!" Another, this one to his head again, forcing him to look up.

"Fine! I'll say it!" Said Kyle, who couldn't take anymore of the abuse. "I'm in love with Stan Marsh!"

"Why not me, Kyle!?" Said Cartman, changing his tone all of a sudden from an insane sadist to a more hurt and emotionally stable tone. "What's wrong with me?! Why the fuck can't I be that stupid second line quarterback, Marsh?!" Kyle's eyes went wide as Cartman leaned down, bringing his fat, disgusting face closer and closer to Kyle's. This is when Kyle screamed.


Now, Stan was walking to his locker after school having taken a long time talking to his last period teacher, and as he was walking back he heard some peculiar sounds from the storage room.

At first he heard shouting, but then there was a pause and a blood curdling shriek.

Stan went up to the storage room, easily throwing open the door because Cartman had been foolish enough to leave it unlocked. Nothing could have prepared Stan for what he saw.

Kyle was kneeling on the floor surrounded in what looked like blood. He had a hand on his nose which was bleeding profusely and tears were streaming down his porcelain cheeks. His eyes were wide with fear and shock. Cartman was hovering above Kyle grinning, his fists were covered in blood and his face was inches away from the bloodied redhead. Stan made a choked noise from somewhere in the back of his throat and the two boys on the ground looked up.

Stan immediately sprung into action, pulling Cartman roughly by the shoulders and onto the floor. He then turned to Kyle and picked up the shaking Jew, holding him bridal style and hugging him close, not wanting any more harm to befall him.

"What the fuck Cartman?!" Stan screamed at the pudgy brunette. "Why the fuck was Kyle alone in the storage room with you with a bloodied nose and bruises all over and with you standing above him like you were going to kiss him?!"

Cartman got up off the floor and tried to answer, but Stan didn't let him.

"Do you see Kyle?! He's about to pass out from blood loss! And what were you doing with him?! Trying to rape him?! What kind of sick, perverted, fag are you?!" Stan hugged Kyle closer to him, as if to keep him from being raped by Cartman.

"ME?! I'm the fag?! Well, that stupid, dirty Jew is the one who's gay for you! Don't you see?!" Cartman held up his hands.

"You better not be. I swear Cartman, if you ever so much as look at Kyle the wrong way I will have your head you stupid fucking fatass." Said Stan, trying to keep his voice even and not showing emotion. "I will fuck you up so badly that your dick will stay soft forever and you'll never lust after my Kyle again."

And with that Stan came out of the closet with Kyle in his arms. At some point the smaller boy in Stan's arms fell asleep, the phrase "my Kyle" echoing around his thoughts.


No one would ever find it strange that Stan was carrying an unconscious Kyle around, it was simply a part of their extreme friendship, so Token saw no problem helping Stan open the back door to his car and sliding Kyle into the back seat. After the redhead was situated, Stan thanked Token and then drove away to his own house. Once at home, Stan carried his unconscious friend to his room and laid Kyle down onto bed. At this time Kyle cracked an eye open and groaned groggily.

"Bleh. I feel like shit." Said Kyle, propping himself up with his arms.

"Um... What happened?" Asked Stan, who was in the bathroom connected to his room and was getting out the rubbing alcohol and cotton swabs.

"I guess, I was sort of reckless..." The redhead mumbled, kicking off his shoes and crawling under the covers. "Cartman put a note on my locker pretending to be you and told me to meet him in the storage room on the second floor. I went even though it looked nothing like your handwriting, but I wanted to see who the hell would leave a false note on my locker... Looking back it seems pretty stupid."

Stan reentered the room and went over to Kyle. He then uncovered the smaller teen and began to undress him so that he could clean out his scrapes and bruises. As the boy with the red poofball hat moved from dabbing a particularly nasty cut on the redhead's shoulder to examining his face he saw what shape the Jewish boy's nose was in.

"Oh my god, Kyle, did fatass break your nose?" Asked Stan, tilting Kyle's head up to meet his eyes. The smaller boy cast his eyes down, not wanting Stan to be disappointed with his disgusting appearance. "We need to get you to the hospital!"

"Is it really that bad? I had hoped that Cartman just bruised it... Ow." Kyle winced as Stan put another rubbing alcohol soaked cotton swab to his face.

Once Stan deemed Kyle okay to go to the hospital he picked up the short manorexic (haha... I love that word...) and took him back into his old Volvo and drove off to Hell's Pass. Kyle was in the passenger seat holding a cloth to his gushing nose, getting paler by the minute. He rolled the window up and tried to relax.


"Kyle, we're here now." said Stan, opening the car door for the redhead. Kyle stepped out shakily, keeping a hand on Stan's shoulders to steady himself.

The Emergency room of Hell's Pass was beyond crowded. There were all kinds of people there, from little kids with broken arms, to shady men with gunshot wounds. Kyle gripped Stan a little tighter as they sat down.

"Please take a number and fill out the card." Said the flustered nurse behind the counter. Stan took the card and began to write in the information.

"Hey, how bad would you say you're pain is? On a scale from one to ten..." Stan questioned Kyle.

"Um... Maybe a 5? I mean, it's not just my nose that hurts... My entire body is pretty bruised up." He replied, trying not to grimace from the pain. "But it wouldn't hurt to put 10 just so we can get in there sooner. I think that guy over there is eye-raping me..."

Stan frowned and then flipped off the old man with the broken leg. He couldn't help but feel like Craig, who was constantly flipping off anyone he interacted with... Well, anyone but Tweek.

"Ha. Now you just need the blue chullo and grey color contacts til you look exactly like him." Said Kyle, almost reading the football player's mind.

"Don't forget a twitching blonde at my side." Said Stan with a smile.

Yup... If only we had the same kind of relationship Tweek and Craig did too, then my life might not be so incredibly shitty. Thought Kyle bitterly.

"Maybe if we were to get you a wig, cut off random chunks of it, and then covered it in hair gel and then run it through a blender." Stan continued, grinning even wider. This only proceeded to make Kyle's mood worse though, reminding him of what he couldn't have.


All done!

Review please! It really helps motivate me! Really!

And no flames please... Those are no fun. :( Stick to either constructive criticism or showerings of love.

Be back next Monday!