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Time is supposed to fly when you're having fun but I can also honestly say that it soars when you're having a fucking horrible time. I'd dropped myself against the kitchen counter, finally allowing all my emotions to come to the front. I was leaving; forever. Possibly going to die. More than likely going to see someone I love die. And almost inevitably suffer psychological and physical trauma.

I could feel a mental breakdown verging, but before I let that set of emotions wash over me, I stuck up a hand, feeling along the counter. I brought down a dishcloth to muffle my cries and offer me some degree of comfort, and butchers knife. My mother must have left it out from her last meal – the last meal we'd have in our own home. The thought of killing myself entered my mind, but I quickly dispelled it. My wost fears were that the camps were going to be similar to the holocaust camps, but I could be completely wrong. I hadn't signed my death yet, and if I stabbed myself to death I'd have no chance at surviving what might be Hell. Anyways, if this was going to be as horrible as I thought it might be, I'd need to be there for Ike, holding his hand each step of the way.

I justified the fact that my fist was still clenching the handle by saying that it was only for defense. After all I had just kicked, punched and spit on the most despicable human being the world had the punishment of housing. Did I honestly think I could plunge a blade into his fucking fat stomach? No. But that didn't stop me from hoping that I could.

And with that final thought, I let the cooking knife clatter to the floor, balled up the cloth and wept until I had nothing left to feel.

I had basically passed out on the kitchen floor, doubled over as if I was physically draining myself of my insides. I probably could have stayed there the rest of my life if I hadn't herd the jostling of the back door. Terrified, I took my knife and crept along the hallway. I guess I just needed someone to talk to, since it was stupid to open a door at two in the morning – especially if you were a Jew.

I unlocked the door, poised my weapon, and took in a shuddering breath before I opened my door.

As proof of my unfit ability to defend myself, I was only able to see a wisp of blond before I was disarmed and... embraced?

"Kenny..." I kicked the door shut with my foot and attempted to free myself from his crushing hug. He was damp from sweat and snow, and like Kenny, always smelt of cigarettes and alcohol. Like Cartman had. I chocked back another sob. Eventually he pulled back enough for me to breath, though his arms still held me in place.

"Kyle, you seen the news yet?" He panted. Even on Kenny's shitty television that didn't seem to get any channels, nonetheless turn on, he still got daily government news.

I nodded because I couldn't think of anything else to say. What do you say to someone you're leaving forever? Apparently he didn't know either, so we stood in that awkward hug-ish distance.

"Cartman kissed me." I blurted after a few minutes.

Instead of the expected astonishment, Kenny only laughed. "I always knew there was a reason he kept trying to get you to suck his balls."

"This is serious!" I cried out. "He was wasted and he kissed me. Tongue and all."

"Ish, Ky. I just came by to tell you to keep safe, y'know? No fucking in the showers without condoms and no jacking off anyone under eighteen. But I think I shoulda been warning you about not letting Cartman crush you when you fuck."

"Kenny." I whined. "He's taking the Colorado chapter-"

"Porno in the making. Ish. Nazi officer making you suck cock for your life. God, I wish I was a Jew." I slapped his arm, and Kenny merely laughed. "Dude, I'm kidding. Actually I came here to give you this," he slipped an arm out of his parka, followed by the other arm and finally lifted it over his head. He bunched the material into a ball, shoving it into my stomach.

With a questioning look, I took the sweater into my hands. "Kenny, dude, you don't have anything else." Sure, he had a few copies of the same top but I didn't want to take anything I didn't have to. Even though my dad's paycheck had been sliced in half because of our religion, we still got by better than Kenny and his alcoholic family.

"It's lucky Ky. Seriously. Sure, this fucker comes close to killing you a few times but that don't mean it don't keep you alive. Every time I worn one of these I always woke up." He smiled, looking happier about his gift than I was. I guess it was a big deal when he got give charity instead of receive it.

"Ken. We're seventeen. Can we get over this whole 'I die every day' thing now?" I laughed though, because I know that after a week I'd miss him pushing this. After Stan got into his Cynical asshole phase, Kenny and I became almost foils. "But thanks dude." I didn't mention that this meant he thought I could die. I just hugged the jacket to my chest, oddly thankful that it still smelt like booze.

"Wait." I ordered him, and took a few steps to the coat closet. I grabbed my old green hat, battered and dusty with age. "So you can't get a new best friend without forgetting me." I brushed it and handed it to the blond. It was my trademark and a memory of our innocent and easy childhood where the most belittlement I received was Cartman calling me a kike.

"I better be getting home. I'm guessing you're going tomorrow... so... bye." Kenny frowned, but then smiled as I delivered my best smile. He hugged me tight and whispered, "don't over think a drunk kiss," before he let me go and I went upstairs to my bedroom.

He was right.

I did have a big day tomorrow.

Ugh, again so hard to write! Please check out the site, but most importantly review. It motivates me, and I'm a total whore for them :) Besides, if you don't you'll make Kyle sad, and no one wants that :(