South Park © Matt & Trey.

Kyle –

"Kyle?" I hear Ike ask carefully as he enters my room.

"Hm…?" I mumble, violently wiping my eyes.

"What did Stan do?"

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Well, I suppose I already did that. Stan probably thinks I'm fucking insane. "He said he was sorry," I say airily. "He fucking apologized…"

Ike tilts his head to the side. "And that's a bad thing…?"

"I don't know if he said it for me or if he said it for himself. If he's just doing this to make himself feel better, then I don't want to hear it."

"Maybe he said it for the both of you?" Ike offers.

"I don't know…" I shake my head. "He had a long time to say it, so why is he saying it now and so suddenly?"

"Who knows?" Ike shrugs. "Stan is, as you say, an asshole… but I don't think he's necessarily a bad person – just dumb. Sometimes it's easier to be selfish about things like this. He probably thought that if he didn't acknowledge your existence then it would be easier for him. He wouldn't have to deal with that he did. He can't run away from it anymore. He has to face it now."

"That's stupid."

"Yeah," Ike agrees. "Stan is a pretty stupid guy. That's why he needs you around. Now that he is being forced to see you, to talk with you, to acknowledge you… His plan of ignoring what happened isn't working out so well. He has to deal with the fallout. He has to deal with what he did and how it affected you. He needs to make it right."

"When you say it like that it really does sound like he's doing it selfishly," I point out.

"It's a little selfish, sure," Ike agrees, "but I don't think it's completely selfish. I think that having him see you break down like that might make him realize that he fucked up big time. I think it will make him want to fix things for his sake as well as yours."

I don't say anything. I just sniffle a bit.

"So, what did you say to him after he said he was sorry?" Ike pries.

"I told him to get out," I admit. "Well, it was more of a loud demand."

"Yeah…" Ike frowns. "I heard you from downstairs." He approaches me where I'm sitting on my bed. "What are you going to do?" he asks.

"I don't know…" I mumble.

He puts his hand on top of my head. "I think you should let him talk."

"Well… I think I was the one to fuck things up this time. I didn't exactly let him talk."

"Naw," Ike shakes his head. "You're allowed to have a freak-out. In comparison to what he did – it's nothing. Maybe he expected it. Maybe he even expected worse."

I close my eyes briefly and let out a sigh, considering the possibility. "Maybe."

And I suppose Ike is right. What Stan did was crueller. I never hit him – even now, I wouldn't hit him… and I especially wouldn't do it when he was down. Anger and grief really do change people.

Ike moves his hand down to my arm and wraps his fingers around it. "Come on, let's go watch TV," he says, dragging me out of the room. "You need to stop thinking."

I aimlessly follow after him, still wiping at my wet eyes. They won't seem to dry.

A few minutes after we're seated in the living room, I feel a headache coming on. Probably from all that crying. I press my hand to my forehead and close my eyes.

"You good?" Ike asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"Headache?" he guesses, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. "You should take something."

"No, it'll go away," I shrug, placing my hands back on my lap. "You know," I begin, "I just noticed something as we were walking down the stairs."

"What?"

"You're almost as tall as me."

He laughs. "That's because I'm nearing the age of growth spurts and, well, you're seventeen and short!"

"I'm not that short," I say defensively.

"Sure, whatever makes you feel better," he grins. "Someday I'll be taller than you."

"Yeah, probably," I admit, forcing a laugh.

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" I ask.

"Pretend," he says. "It's only me here."

"Yeah… Sorry."

"Don't apologize either. It doesn't matter."

"Sorry."

"Kyle," he says somewhat dryly. "So what do you want to watch?" he asks, aimlessly flipping through channels.

"I don't care; just put whatever you usually watch on." I'm not much of a TV person. I never watch it and therefore, I don't know what's on these days. The last TV show I remember watching was Terrence and Phillip… and that was around seven years ago. Sometimes I see Ike watching old episodes and I feel pretty nostalgic.

"Okay," Ike shrugs, settling on some anime.

"What's this?" I ask.

"Reruns of Naruto."

"Oh, what's this one about?"

"Ninjas!"

It reminds me of the time Stan, Cartman, Kenny and I convinced a man at a kiosk to sell us those Japanese weapons so we could play ninjas. Well, it definitely didn't end well for poor Butters… Oh, well.

I don't really know what's going on in the show, but that's okay. It'll pass the time. I just watch the blond protagonist fight with some orange haired guy and try not to think about what happened with Stan mere moments ago.

Once my parents get home later on in the night, they ask how our day was and all that typical shit.

"Stan was over earlier," Ike smiles sweetly at me. "Right, Kyle?"

I glare at him and my mom looks ecstatic. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she says happily. "What did you boys do?"

"I taught him how to do matrices."

"Well, that sounds thrilling! You should have him over for supper next week."

"No, I don't think he'll be coming back anytime soon," I admit.

"Why not?"

"We had a bit of an argument."

"Tsk," she clicks her tongue. "You boys will figure it out."

I'm not so sure this time. All I know is that I'm definitely not falling out of love any time soon. I wonder if Stan would keep trying even if I continuously refused to hear a thing he said. I wonder what he would say if I told him how I felt. Thinking about it scares me.