A/N: Longer chapter than normal. Uhhhh, not much to say here. Not sure if I want to bother including New Years in the next chapter, or if I should just move things along. I mean, this is pretty filler all in itself. Do you guys care for new years? Do you want filler? Am I moving too fast? Please, let me know. I need the feedback here.

Merry early Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa, and Happy Hanukkah. You'll probably have another update before New Years, though, if I have the time. I'll be working hard during the holidays. Anyway...

Enjoy~

---

Days are going by so slow.

It's not even me doing the avoiding. It's not him, either. It's just both of us just not having anything to say.

I don't know if he's sorry. I never saw him after the party because Cartman of all people drove me and Kenny to his house. I don't think Cartman pities anything; I think he gets off to my pain.

I'm not paying attention, perched on the same lab stool that I was on cloud nine on a couple of weeks ago. Has it even been that long? I don't know anymore. I slide my eyes over Kenny, and he's picking at his nails, seeming unwilling to bother me. In some ways this is good, in others, this is torturous. To sit here in silence, with everyone looking at me.

That's what they've done the last few days. Look at me.

They look at anyone involved, really. They look at me, at Stan, at Kenny, at Cartman, even at Wendy. At Craig for the story. But there's no real story, is there? This thing happens typically. There's no good guy or bad guy, because it goes both ways. Does Kenny sucking me off count as cheating when I couldn't move and could barely remember? Probably. Some might say it's rape, but I probably wouldn't have fought him off on any other night.

I feel dirty, suddenly. Kind of like a whore. A dirty cheating whore.

I sink my face into my folded arms, wondering if Stan had every right.

The teacher continues squawking away. I hold my palms against my eyes, feeling weird and uncomfortable, before slowly sinking up from the table. Things have changed, drastically; I stare at Kenny but I'm not really understanding what's going on. My tongue is numb and I wonder if I'm still at the party. What am I doing? Am I supposed to be doing something?

"Kyle, are you alright?"

Kenny stares at me a moment before turning toward me and I can't do anything but stare, feeling dizzy and shaky. I tilt my head down, unable to make a coherent sentence and try to stand, only for my knees to buckle slightly as I stagger away from the lab bench to the floor in the middle of the isle, kids standing up all around me.

Fizzled talk. I keep trying to nibble my tongue to clear my head, but I can't feel anything. My stomach scrapes at me.

I haven't eaten for a while.

Oh. That's it.

I open my mouth, trying to talk as the teacher helps hoist me into a sitting position, but Kenny's already a step ahead of me with the left over orange juice I bought him at lunch; he's been broke the last few days with his parents apparently not having the money to give him lunches, which they have been since late October. He's spilling the contents into my mouth as carefully as he can with my slackened jaw. I try to close my mouth a bit to make it easier, and the sugar rushing into my system is already enlightening. I blink a few times slowly as Kenny holds both my cheeks.

"Dude, Clyde, go get another bottle of orange juice, hurry."

I blink a few times, coming back. I stare at Kenny's face with worry. "Low..."

"Yeah, Ky. You're low. Your blood sugar is like, 40. I did a check for you."

I stare at him, and then at my finger. Sure enough there's a fresh pinprick on my left index finger. I look up at Kenny dizzily. When the hell...

"I... my mouth..."

"Just stay still Ky, it's okay. But you're never skipping a god damned meal again."

I laugh weakly. "You're a super hero."

Kenny seems confused before he shakes his head and just smiles. I don't know what goes through his mind. The teacher's still half-holding me up and I lean away from her, almost toppling over again before managing to support myself on the side of our lab bench. She's gone in a moment and soon more juice is being shoved into my palms by a source I don't care about, and I take a sip dizzily. The lesson seems to be continuing as Kenny curls beside me on the floor with an arm around my shoulders as the world comes back to a regular level of function.

"Thanks Ken."

He nods, leaning against my shoulder. I offer him the orange juice and he steals an eager sip.

"Come over for dinner tonight."

He nods, seeming uncertain, and leans against my shoulder without question.

There's something terribly poetic about the weather today. I notice that on my way home some time later, with Kenny attached to my side and seeming as thrilled as I am. It's nice out; kind of a stir fry of seasons all in one go.

We stroll up to the front of my house, greeted by no cars in the driveway, and I'm vaguely reminded of when I was here with Stan under the same circumstances just a few days ago.

So little time has passed and yet it feels like months of dialogue have gone by that I've missed. So many important things. And now after what's happened, I'm trying to make sense of it all, let it fall into place with some bias from my own suspicions.

I can't help but wallow, it's just what happens to me under this kind of pressure.

Our book bags thud to the floor, and I stare at Kenny as he sits on the edge of my bed and watches me curiously. I take a moment to stare back, envying him. Envying how pretty he is, how good he is, how loyal he is. He could be chilling with Stan and having a neutral time, but he's here with me, while I mope and gloat. Maybe he's just in it for the food... but I kind of figure Cartman would be here, too, if that were the case.

So this is it. When I'm free of five hundred anxieties if I break up with Stan officially, I have six hundred more tumbling down on me, I guess. When I was younger, I'd say that cheaters were cheaters and that I'd never let one hook me like the people on television. I guess I really didn't know what love was at the time, because it's a lot harder than I thought it would be.

If he even wants me, that is.

"Kyle, you're zoning."

I glance up to find a hand in front of my face post the muffled interruption of my thoughts. I blink and swat at it before Kenny finally pulls away, staring at me with some level of concern as he shrugs out of his parka.

"Can I take a shower?" I nod and he looks at me, patting the top of my hat. "Don't worry, man. Everything will be okay."

I can't help but at least try to smile at this, and I watch him depart as he starts stripping off the first few layers, before casting my eyes away from my open bedroom door and curl up on my side in bed.

People seem to really hate me getting any kind of rest lately, because before I know it my phone's ringing. I pick up the phone to see the name bouncing through my head the last few days dancing across the display, and my throat tightens.

I panic. I stare around, as though I need to find an escape, even though I could easily just not pick up, but I feel like I have no other option some how. The phone clicks open and I pull it to my ear, curling up on my side nervously.

"Hello?"

"Kyle, look..."

We both go silent. I'm not sure if he's lost his nerve, or if he's forgotten what he wants to say. Maybe it's a bit of both. I sit quietly, trying to nibble at my nails, all that jazz. Looking like I don't care even though Stan's not even in my immediate company. Maybe my lack of confidence won't show through in my voice this way. I refuse to crack in front of him, just like I didn't a few days ago. Nope, turned to the bottle right away, and danced my way to my near-death for the rest of the night. So Kenny says, anyway. I don't remember a thing.

"I was really drunk."

"I'm aware."

"I'm really sorry."

It's my turn to go quiet and I sigh, turning over. "Can I get some answers?"

He doesn't say anything, and I take that as the go-ahead, even if it isn't. I'm expecting answers no matter what he says.

"Is this about me not throwing my dignity out the window for you?"

"No, it's about the alcohol."

"Stan, seriously. You remember what happened. I barely remember what happened. You had to have some kind of conscious as to what you were doing."

He falls silent again and I hold my dwindling strength. "Kyle. You're my super best friend. And I really liked the time we had but man, I'm just... I don't know. It was really abrupt. It was probably a mistake on my part."

"So I was your rebound."

"No, I just mean..." I can practically hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. I kind of hope it starts to bleed. "I think I took my feelings in account of everything, over my sexuality. I enjoy it with you. I love you. But I just... I think about it. And I know you're not a submissive little bitch. And eventually you're gonna want to switch shit up and it freaks me out and-"

"- and you're a straight-assed jock that uses his best friends to test the waters before deciding women are more of your forte because you're a pussy who can't take it up the ass, and only gives it."

My flat tone seems to have put him in line. I feel more satisfied.

"I'm not a fucking pussy I just don't think a dick up my butt is gonna be good no matter how hard you like it."

Maybe not. I frown, sitting up on the opposite side of my bed and facing my window with my chin in my palm.

"Well, you're good at it."

"I just think we took shit too fast."

I sigh and press my face into my palms with my cell phone between my ear and shoulder. This is pissing me off so badly I'd rather be talking to Cartman about the holocaust. "You initiated it, Stan. You came into my room and fucked me."

"No, you fucker, we did it together. Dude, why are you always so self-absorbed? That was a mutual decision. If you'd said no, I would have stopped. If I'd said I wasn't gonna go that far, you would have stopped. We both decided with our lack of protest. Don't try and make it sound like I pressed myself on you!"

I'm silenced by this statement, though I'm still pissed off. Managing to hold my tongue, I take a few deep breathes through my nose.

"Why didn't you just dump me if you decided you were straight?"

"Kyle I was fucking drunk when I did Wendy! You know what I'm like. I wasn't thinking, dude, seriously."

I knit my hands through my hair in irritation. "Just tell me if you want to get back together or not."

He sighs and I fall back against my bed, seeing a half-nude figure behind me and nearly jumping out of my skin. Kenny's staring at me deer-eyed, obviously having been eavesdropping on this conversation for some time from behind me.

"Are you even listening?"

I snap back to my phone call. "Sorry, what?"

Another sigh. "I don't think it's a good idea right now. You're mad, and I'm confused. But dude, you still mean the world to me. Stop ignoring me at school."

"You stop ignoring me at school!"

I can't help these outbursts. I really can't. My temper's getting the better of me and I'm half unsure as to why I'm even so mad. I take a long look at Kenny and then glance away, out the window. "I'm gonna go."

"We'll talk about this more personally tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright. Bye."

"Bye."

Kenny's on me before I even have time to snap my phone shut, and I flinch away from his wet form, pushing him off of my bed. "Dude, you're dripping."

"Sorry. Did you guys make up?"

I stare. "Did it sound like we made up?"

"I can only hear one side of the fucking conversation, dude. Stop jumping down my throat, it's not my fault."

I pull my legs up to my chest and sigh, lacing my fingers together with a slow vacancy. "Sorry, dude."

Kenny sits beside me. He's looking uncertain but puts an arm around me anyway. I don't even care if he sogs up my sheets anymore, because I lean into his hug and it's the best thing I've had all week.

"Things'll be alright, Ky. Don't worry. I know they're all crappy right now but they'll be okay." He sends my back a rub from our embrace and I shut my eyes agains his shoulder, before pulling back and looking at him.

I should have just tried to hook Kenny from the beginning.

Okay, stupid idea. But really. He has a deeper understanding of things, sometimes. Sure, he probably just wants to get into my pants because I'm the only one he hasn't nailed (except for maybe Cartman, I never asked. Never wanted to know). But really, we've got a totally different friendship than Stan and I have - had? Whatever.

I look at him with a bit more of a predatory stare than I intend, and he stares at me back with inquisitive risen eyebrows before it seems to click.

"No."

I frown and flop back. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not a sloppy rebound, Kyle. And you know I'm not that kind of guy. Relationships aren't my thing."

He slides off the bed and drops his towel and I turn my eyes away as he gets dressed and tugs a cigarette out of the ass pocket of his jeans. He opens the window and looks at me and I hand him a lighter, rolling onto me side with a sigh.

"Just give Stan some time, dude. He'll come around. You were both really trashed. Both times."

"Kenny. I really don't think this is going to just get better. I really, really think that he doesn't want to get back together."

I ignore the fact that I've just made a rhyme but his smirk tells me he's noticed and I roll my eyes as he smokes. I'd grab a cigarette myself but there's no way in hell I'm gonna be caught smoking in my own house. My mom would kill me. Twice. She knows Kenny smokes but she checks the smell of my clothes, my breath, every time just in case. She's so anal. Seriously.

He's sighing and watching birds fly by, and I wonder if he's died today, which concerns me. I know my house isn't a death trap but it's not like the smallest thing won't end his life. I give my room a once-over just in case, before looking back at him, kind of for anything. A click in my head brings an excuse to the surface as I hunt deeper for some reason.

"At the party. You said you loved me."

"Kyle, I may have been drunk, too, but I wasn't that drunk."

"Not that party, Ken. The other one. The one where you blew me."

He turns and stares at me, half-tapping his cigarette out my bedroom window. He seems to be thinking, but I'm not sure if he's trying to remember or if he knows. Kenny's a guy of many mysteries when it comes to his personal thoughts; a follower and less of a leader.

"Well, I do love you." He slips his cigarette back between his lips and hops up onto the window sill. I stare at his figure blacked out against the setting sun out my window and feel suddenly a lot better. "But it's different than you and Stan. You understand, yeah?"

His voice is half a statement more than an actual question. No, Kenny. No, I don't understand. I frown, knowing he probably won't explain to me anyway as I roll over in my bed. I hear him flick the cigarette out the window and pull it shut before he joins me, curling an arm around my waist. "Kyle, you're my best friend. I hold you higher than Stan or Cartman cause you've always been there for me and actually given a damn. You know that. But you're reeling out of control and letting shit get the better of you, dude. Just slow the fuck down and sniff the daisies. It's New Years Eve tomorrow. If the four of us aren't getting together like usual I'll come spend it with you normally."

How our New Years plans play into this I'm not sure but I understand. Sighing, I reach into my bedside table and pull out the envelope with the four hundred dollars still sealed inside, flipping it through my fingers thoughtfully. I still don't know what its purpose is, but it seems like a good time as any to use it. I don't celebrate Christmas but I don't need a holiday to practise the art of giving. I roll over to face Kenny in bed and smile a bit, holding it between us.

"Tonight we dine in hell, Kenny. Lets go hit up every buffet in town. On me. Okay?"

He stares at me in a moment, as though waiting for me to take it back, before cracking a smile and nodding with his wet blond hair sliding over his nose comically.