Kyle slammed his locker door shut, praying to God that it didn't fall off the hinges. Any onlooker would just assume that he was angry and decided to take it out on the door, but honestly, Kyle just liked the noise. Ever since the…uh…incident, he jumped at the little things. Small noises reminded him of secrets and stealthiness. And sneak attacks. The quiet was just too scary. Nothing was happening, but so much could. The dark wasn't any better. He wasn't terrified of it, but he avoided turning out the light as much as possible. He didn't like not being able to see his surroundings. Everything looked dangerous at night.

He slung his backpack over his shoulder and grunted at the weight. He was still making up all the assignments he had missed for the three weeks he had been gone. It was like all his teachers were out to get him. They all seemed to say in sweet, syrupy voices, "Oh, look. It's Kyle. Let's all give him as much homework as humanely possible. And then, when he's about to pass out from exhaustion, let's give him even more and change the due dates on the original assignments! Yay!" High school was torture. Especially Junior year.

A loud beep was emitted from his backpack. Kyle flinched before realizing it was his phone. He threw his bag on the laminated floor and groped for the cell. Upon flipping it open, he saw that he had two missed calls and two new voicemails.

One set was from Stan. Kyle pressed Send to listen to the message.

Please enter your password, came the robotic prompt.

Kyle dialed in the four numbers quickly.

You have. Two. Unheard messages. To listen to first. Unheard. Message. Press one. The voice paused at the wrong spots, making everything sound out of place.

Kyle pressed one.

First unheard message. Sent yesterday. At 7:55 PM.

"Hey dude. It's Stan. Um…just wanted to let you know that you missed our date…oh, shit. Sorry. That sounded really gay. But I'm gay, so who cares? But you're not gay…Dude! You took too long to answer….Oh fuck. Am I a moron or what? God, of course you didn't answer. You're not even on the phone right now. Why was I even calling in the first place? I forgot…Oh, yeah. I talked to Kenny earlier. Are you alright? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want. So…uh…call me back or something so we can reschedule the History project to a different day. See you at school tomorrow. Bye."

Kyle smiled. Stan had a tendency to get off-track easily. He pressed seven and deleted the voicemail. He then proceeded to listen to the second message. It was sent from an unknown number.

"Hello, Kyle," the gravelly voice said. Kyle immediately stiffened. "It's been awhile. I thought you'd want to be left alone while you healed. I'm sorry for running out on you that day. It was my first time, and my conscious kicked in. We'll be keeping in touch, don't you worry about that. I'll be seeing you around, Kyle."

The boy was now sitting against the lockers. His legs were splayed outwards and his eyes were glazed over and looking forward, but not seeing anything. He couldn't get that voice out of his head. That voice belonged to a man who had caused him so much pain. It was him.

His first thought wasn't, Oh shit, or How long? or even How did he get my number? Nope. The first thought that ran through Kyle's mind was, Well, this'll be an interesting story for the shrink.

He was still sitting, his breaths coming in and going out in little erratic gasps.

What did he mean by, "I'll be seeing you around"? Maybe it would be best not to go home tonight. But what about his family? There was no way he was leaving them alone with that psychopath. Absolutely no fucking way at all.

While Kyle was debating silently to himself, a figure stepped out of the nearby Chemistry Lab and walked over. The raven-haired boy saw his friend next to the lockers trying to control his shaking.

Stan rushed over and put a comforting hand on Kyle's shoulder. He felt the boy jerk beneath him.

"Fuck!"

Kyle tried to escape the grasp, thinking that the man had truly come back. He clawed at the hand. Stan tightened his fingers around the the jacket and gritted his teeth.

"Jesus Christ, Kyle. What the Hell!?" he screamed.

Kyle shot his head up. He recognized that voice. But he was too far gone in his own world to put a face to it. But his name was on the tip of his tongue. Well, that was a start, at least. He knew it was a guy. Or a very manly girl. Damnit, now he was back to square one. Kyle pressed his forehead into his palms and shook it vigorously. Stan momentarily lost his hold and didn't try to grab Kyle, again, for fear of having another body part torn at.

"Kyle?" he asked warily. "Kyle? What's wrong?"

His friend continued to shake his head, mumbling something under his breath. Stan had to listen very carefully to decipher the words that fell from the redhead's mouth.

"No, no, no, no. Oh, God, please no," he begged. Tears were starting to form in the corners of his eyes.

Stan bent down so he was face to face with Kyle. He placed his hand on Kyle's knee, partly to support himself and partly to comfort the boy in front of him.

"Kyle? Hey, dude. What's wrong?"

Kyle shot his head up, and for the first time, Stan could see his face. His skin was extremely pale, like all the blood had been drained from it. His eyes were slightly glazed over, but they appeared to be seeing his surroundings and taking them in. Finally he looked at Stan.

"S-stan," he stuttered.

"Kyle."

"Oh God. Stan. Fucking shit."

He stood up slowly, not blinking once.

"Kyle, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. "I'll be fine."

I'll be fine?

"What's wrong with you?"

"Huh? Nothing. Nothing. Why would you ask that?" Kyle asked hurridley.

Stan narrowed his eyes in concern. "You said, 'I'll be fine.' That obviously means that something's wrong with you," he explained slowly. "And stop shaking so much. One Tweek is more than enough to deal with."

"S-sorry."

"But really, Kyle. What is wrong?"

Kyle searched frantically in his mind for something to tell Stan. "Family problems," he told him. "My cousin is really sick."

"You hate your cousin," Stan reminded him.

"Not that cousin. A different one." God, everyone hated his cousin. The one with the same name. He was so Jewish that even Jews loathed him and wanted to end his existence. No one had succeeded, although the boys had tried countless times.

"Hm. I was going to ask you if you wanted to go shopping with me." Stan dropped the subject. He really didn't like seeing Kyle this freaked out. He must really love his cousin.

"Yes!" This was perfect. A great opportunity. Maybe Stan could get his mind off of his current problems. "I'd be glad to go!"

"..Ok. Now?"

"Why not? Go out earlier. Stay out later. Works for me," Kyle babbled on.

"Ok. I get it. You can stop, now."

But Stan was happy that his friend had decided to take him up on his offer. He hoped that this would take Kyle's mind off of his cousin.

Too bad he didn't know that it would only lead to things worse than a sick relative.

XXX

"What exactly are you looking for?" Kyle asked, taking long strides to keep up with Stan's short, quick steps.

"Something for my mom. It's her birthday, soon, you know?"

"Isn't your mom's birthday in August?"

"Yeah. So?"

"It's May."

"So?"

Kyle groaned. "So, isn't it a bit early to go shopping for her?"

"I don't think so. People start shopping for Christmas before Halloween is even over."

"Yes, but that's a major holiday. This is your mom's birthday. Besides, what would you even get her?"

"I dunno. Jewelry or something, probably," Stan decided.

"Hey, what about this place?" Kyle yelled.

Stan turned to see that Kyle had stopped right next a Primrose Jewelers about three stores away. He hurried over and the two boys went inside.

Stan headed towards the pendant section where a young man was sitting.

"How can I help you boys?" he asked.

"I'm looking for a present for my…girlfriend," Stan explained. There wasn't any way he was going to tell a complete stranger that he was looking for a gift for his mom. And he only said 'girlfriend' because the residents of South Park only pretend to be tolerant of homosexuals.

"Ah." The man opened up a glass case and pulled out five different pendants. "What's the occasion?"

"Birthday." He scanned the items in front of him. "What about this one?" he asked, pointing to an white gold Iris with a three opals.

"Good choice, young man. One of our finest quality pendants. Also our most expensive."

"…How much?" Stan reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet.

"Five."

"Dollars?"

The man laughed. "No, five thousand."

"Oh." Stan frowned. "I only have three hundred. Is there anything cheaper?"

It was the man's turn to look downcast. "Our cheapest item is six hundred. Maybe you should come back when you have some money. Now why don't you head out?"

"Why? I'm still looking."

"Yes. Looking. Not buying. Looking doesn't help business so maybe you should take yourself somewhere else where you can actually afford to buy something." He rolled his eyes in the general direction where Kyle was. "And take your friend. He's giving me the creeps."

"Fine," Stan said venomously. "Let's go Kyle. We're not wanted here."

"Yeah. Ok," Kyle said slowly. He was deep in thought, and Stan had a feeling that he shouldn't ask any questions.

Outside, the two boys decided it would be best to go separate directions. They could cover more ground that way.

Kyle passed a cheap jewelry store, two fruit stands, and a Pharmacy.

…Wait. A pharmacy?

Kyle stopped his trek outside the drug store.

Should I? Should I not? Should I? Should I not?

The 'Should I?' won over.

Kyle opened the door and heard a bell jingle to notify an employee that a customer was there. He headed towards the back, where the pain medications were. Tylenol, Advil, more Advil, some special organic stuff. Kyle knew what he was looking for. But where the heck was it? It was probably one of those behind-the-counter drugs. He headed to where the pharmacist was.

"What do you need?" she asked nicely.

"Sleeping pills. I don't care what brand," Kyle answered quickly.

She pulled out a pad of paper. "Name?"

"Steven Rite. R-I-T-E." He didn't want word to get around that he himself, Kyle Broflosvki, had been buying prescription drugs. Especially since only he knew why he was getting them in the first place.

"Age," she continued.

"Eighteen," he lied. He hoped she believed him.

She kept on writing. After a few more questions, she grabbed a bottle off the shelf and Kyle gave her the money.

"Here you go. Have a nice day. Come back, soon."

As if that's going to happen, Kyle thought grimly. He stuffed the pill bottle into his pocket and went back on his jewelry quest. He saw Stan running up to him.

"Hey…dude," he gasped. "Find…any…thing?"

He seemingly didn't know what had just happened.

"No."

"Oh, okay then. What about that place?" He pointed behind Kyle at a trinket store.

Kyle turned and opened his mouth. Then something caught his eye. Or someone, actually.

"There's nothing there."

"Dude, look. There's a lot there."

Kyle swiveled around. He glared at his friend. "There is nothing there. Let's just go."

Nothing except him. The man. Walking down an aisle. Kyle prayed to God that he hadn't been noticed. But if he had, he didn't want Stan to be seen, too. He didn't want anything to happen to him. Kyle could never live with himself if Stan was hurt. He didn't want to think of him as dead.

"What's your problem?" Stan bit back. "What the Hell is the matter with you!?"

Please, Stan, don't make me do this. Please. I don't want to.

"You. You're my fucking problem. Stop acting like we're little kids. That's in the past and it's time you started living in the present."

"I don't know what the Hell you're talking about," Stan replied flatly.

"Of course you don't. Also," Oh God, interrupt me. Don't let me say it. "Also, you should just leave me alone. People are starting to assume things."

"Like what?"

"That we're together."

"So? That never bothered you before." Stan looked like he was about to cry.

"Yeah, well, this is high school. It does bother me. I don't want to be seen with you if it's going to ruin my reputation…Sorry," Kyle said sarcastically.

Oh, fuck, Stan. I am. I really am sorry. I didn't want to hurt you. But I have to if I want to protect you. Please, Stan. This is for the best.

"…But…wh-what about S-s-super Best F-f-friends?"

Yes Stan. You'll always be my Super Best Friend. Forever and ever. I promise.

"That's in the past. I mean, come on, we're not eight, anymore. I don't think I can even be your friend at this point. People already assume enough about me. Why add 'faggot' to the list? Goodbye, Stanley."

XXX

Kyle sat on his bed contemplating and planning. He didn't want to take the pills here, in case his parents came in. Or even Ike. He really hadn't meant to snap at him. Kyle decided it would be best to go somewhere where nobody could bother him. Suicide was a private matter, after all. Kyle wasn't going to waste time writing a letter. What was the point? He didn't want anyone to worry. He checked the time. 8:59 PM. Close enough.

He opened the window and started down the trellis.

XXX

Stan looked over at his watch. It was 9:36 PM. He had been thinking about the day. Kyle hadn't been acting like himself. Something was going on, and he was going to find out what…Right after he got some sleep.

As soon as he finally fell under, someone rudely opened his door.

"What the…?" he said groggily. He saw his mom standing in the doorway.

"Stan, honey, Sheila just called."

"Yeah?"

"Is Kyle up here with you?"

"Do you see him anywhere?" he snapped. Sharon grimaced. "Sorry. Is everything alright?"

"Oh, God. No Stanley." She looked to Randy for help.

"Well, son, your little friend Kyle is missing."

XXX

"Why the Hell am I even here?" Cartman asked angrily.

Stan had managed to get a hold of him and Kenny because even though Kyle was being an ass, he wanted to make sure he was okay.

"Because, fatso, Kyle's missing."

"So? Have the cops look for him."

Kenny widened his eyes. "Have you seen the police force here, lately, tubby?"

"Ay! I thought you two wanted me to help!"

"Yeah," the two boys answered simultaneously.

"Well you've both called me names in the past twenty seconds. Screw you guys. I'm going home."

Eric Cartman was a very overdramatic person.

XXX

Kyle sat next to the oak tree at Stark's Pond. What a nice view. Too bad he was going to ruin it with a dead body. He felt bad for the person who would find him.

He pulled the childproof cap off and downed four pills. That should be enough.

The peacefulness was broken when he heard someone walking towards him and muttering under his breath.

"It's always me. Poor boy is never even here. Hippie is a faggot. And Jew can't even take care of himself. It's always me. Why am I the one who alwa-" he stopped upon seeing the boy in front of him, sitting on the grass under the moonlight.

Kyle's eyes were starting to droop, Cartman could see this. But he was smiling. Why the Hell was he smiling?

"Kahl?"

Kyle wanted to say, "Go away," but he couldn't form the words.

Eric saw his eyes finally close all the way and Kyle's breathing evened out until it was barely noticeable.

He was going to leave. He was going to head home, grab a bag of Snacky Smore's, and watch TV. He was going to do all this and more, until he saw the bottle.

"What do we have hyeah?" He read the label. "Oh…oh shit. Kyle?"

Don't do this to me, again. I can't keep saving you! He saw the others walking past. But they can.

"Stan! Kennah! Over here!"

He stuck the pills into his jacket. Why? He didn't even know. Nothing was making sense, so why should that? Why couldn't anything make sense?

Author's Note: Uh-oh. Is Kyle going to be ok? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Is that weird?