Author's Note: Hey, I lied. I said I'd have this chapter up a couple days ago, but as you can probably tell, that did not happen. I won't be updating for a few days (until Tuesday or Wednesday) since I'll be away from the computer. Thanks for reading! And please keep reviewing...

"Kyle, bubby, you haven't even touched your food," his mom noted.

And it was true. There they were, him, his mom, his dad, and Ike, all sitting at the table. Everyone was devouring the spaghetti in front of them (vegetarian, by the way and pretty good) except for the young redhead who wasn't even bothering to play with his food. His fork was still in the same spot as before and the steam coming off his plate was starting to lessen.

Kyle leaned back until the crook of his neck was resting on the top of the chair.

"Hm." What a brilliant comeback. He should write it down before he forgets it. "…not hungry," he mumbled, watching the ceiling fan go round and round and round.

"Well, you should eat something!" she scolded.

"Your mother's right, son. You're looking a lot skinnier."

"Hm."

"Wow Kyle, for a seventeen year old, you don't have a very exciting vocabulary."

He snapped. This was it, the straw that broke the camel's back. He shot out of his chair, eyes wide and breath coming in short gasps.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm not a boy genious like you are! You ungrateful little asswipe of a fucking brother!" He paused. "No, I take that back. You don't deserve the title of 'brother' because you're just a whiney little Canadian bitch who always gets his way! Is that vocabulary exciting enough for you!? Or should I use bigger words?"

Ike stared at his brother. "Fuck you," was all he whispered before he got up and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Kyle stood a moment, red in the face, before turning to look at his parents shocked expressions. His mom opened her mouth to speak.

He cut her off. "Piss. Off." He started towards the door, then stopped. "You know what? Cartman was right. You are a bitch." And with that, Kyle left both his parents dazed and confused in the kitchen. His food sat, cold and forgotten.

XXX

Kyle stood impatiently outside the rundown house in front of him. He attacked the door with his fist again, surprised that it didn't crumble and fall down.

God, Kenny. How slow are you?

Just as he was about to give the door a series of knocks for the third time, he heard shuffling. The door creaked open, and a boy peeked out, his face hidden by a bright orange parka. He swung the door open all the way when he realized who was standing on his front step.

"Kyle! Hey dude!" Kenny moved aside and gestured for his friend to come in. Kyle followed and Kenny led him to the tattered couch. He looked for a place to sit, seeing that all the furniture was either mutilated or had a bunch of crap piled up.

Kenny noticed his uncertaintity. "Just throw it on the floor."

Kyle raised his eyebrow just slightly and tossed an overused blanket, three books, and a cigarette lighter down. He collapsed on the couch and then turned towards his poorest friend.

Kenny frowned upon seeing Kyle's face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were darting everywhere.

He focused forward, again. "Kenny, I really need a smoke right about now."

XXX

Stan sighed loudly. Goddamn Kyle. Where could he be? He was supposed to meet him here, right? Today was Saturday, after all. Wasn't it? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he got the day wrong. But one look at the calendar told him this wasn't so. He looked over at the clock. 6:58.

Damn. I can't believe it. He stood me up. Asshole stood me up!

He reached for his phone, flipped it open, and pressed in the numbers six six and six. Kenny's speedial. It rang once, twice, three times, and on the fourth ring was picked up.

"Hey."

"Kenny? Hey dude, it's me."

He heard someone sigh. "Me who?"

"Stan."

"Oh, hey man! What's up?"

It was Stan's turn to sigh. "I need someone to rant and rave to. I can't talk to Cartman," he explained, "because he'd rip on me. Not like he doesn't anyways. And I can't call Kyle since it involves him. So that leaves you…"

"That's nice, Stan," Kenny replied absentmindedly. "I can't talk, though. I'm a little tied up at the moment." Stan heard something drop. "Fuck! Where the Hell did you find that!?" Stan frowned. "Sorry," Kenny apologized. "I wasn't talking to you. Now what's up with you and Kyle?"

"I'm not sure. He was supposed to come over today so we could work on the History project together. But he never showed."

"Dude, he's here."

Stan cocked his head. "At your place?" Fuck. He didn't just stand me up. He stood me up for Kenny. Fuck. "Let me talk to him," he said slowly.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea. He's a little…uh," Kenny searched for the right word. "He's a bit off balance."

"Huh? Off balance? Is everything alright?" Stan immediately took back everything he'd thought about Kyle prior to and during the call. If something was wrong, then it wasn't truly standing someone up…right?

"I don't know. He just came here, like, five minutes ago and he's been acting pretty wired up. He can't seem to stay still. Holy shit! Put that down! Jesus Kyle! Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Kenny paused. "Hold on, Stan. I'll be right back." Stan listened as Kenny made his way over to who he could only assume was Kyle. A few seconds later, Kenny picked the phone back up. "Back. Look, Stan, I'll talk to Kyle about the assignment. I have go before he does something drastic…Fuck! You're supposed to inhale those! Not eat them!" Something clicked and Stan was left listening to a dial tone.

"Bye."

XXX

Kenny dashed over to where his redheaded friend was in the kitchen. Kyle held a handful of cigarettes in his hand and was trying, unsuccessfully, to light them all.

"Christ, man. You're going to kill yourself," Kenny scolded.

"…I know. Who cares?" Kyle replied quietly.

"I care! Stan cares! God, even Cartman would probably care!"

Kyle's eyes narrowed. "Fuck fatass."

Kenny didn't miss Kyle's anger. "What did he do this time?"

"Nothing," Kyle replied calmly. It was the Gods honest truth. "He did absolutely nothing." He tried getting a flame so he could smoke. "Damn Kenny, this lighter sucks ass. Did you find it at the dump or something?"

Kenny growled. "Well, you don't seem to know how to work it. Let me help you."

He grabbed the lighter and tried to get a spark. Kyle looked down at his feet.

"Stan called."

Kyle snapped his head up. "Yeah?"

"Apparently you ditched him."

Kyle furrowed his brow. What did he do? Then it dawned on him. "Oh..yeah. That." He shook his head. "I totally forgot to call him. I meant to. I had to go…somewhere…Shit, he probably hates me, now."

Kenny shrugged. "Eh, I think he'll live…Here you go." He reached over and lit one of Kyle's cigarettes with the newly acquired flare.

Kyle took in a deep breath and sighed appreciatively. "Thank you. I really needed that."

"Yeah, I noticed," Kenny replied firmly. "Are you alright?"

"Great," he replied sarcastically. "Never been better."

Kenny narrowed his eyes, but decided not to push it any further. "...Ok. Give me one of those," he demanded while reaching for one of the multiple smokes Kyle still held.

Kyle handed one to him and as he watched Kenny attempt at getting another spark, thoughts ran through his head.

Damn, Ken's being pretty cool. I wonder how he'd take it if I told him that my mom made me see a shrink. I actually don't think he'd laugh. He'd probably sit down and we'd talk until I wanted to stop. Then we'd play the Wii. If he had one.

"Hey, Kenny?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Can I tell you something?"

Kenny was about to reply, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the flame caught and jumped to his arm. "FUCK!"

Kyle looked on as his poor (in more ways than one) friend burst into flames and fell to the floor. His body was a charred mess and smoke rose to the ceiling.

"Never mind."