AN: This chapter is unnecessarily long and we're not sure how it got that way, probably because it was written over so many days. We love the reviews, feedback, and reactions when you all read these chapters! And guess what? Indiana Beach Bum has drawn a portrait of our BELOVED Miller! Austin will be next, but in the meantime check out Mill on IBB's deviant art page. The link is in her bio. Go look and bask, bask in his beauty!

The Reformation of Kyle Broflovski

X. The Impact

The first sound I hear when I wake up is our mini-fridge kicking on again. It's so loud that sometimes I use it as an alarm clock. My eyes crack open and I peer around the room, immediately noticing that I'm on the opposite side from where I'm used to. Instant memories flood my mind about the night's activities as I twist my head around just enough to see Kyle and his closed eyes, sound asleep behind my shoulder. The side of his face is smashed against my back, and my eyes shift down to his naked chest pressed against me. His right arm loosely hangs over my abs and our legs are so entangled, I wonder how we could've slept that way.

Dorm beds are just about as small as they come, and I feel like I'm about to fall over the edge. I lightly nudge Kyle to scoot over, to which he grunts and frowns, still not waking. I try to maneuver onto my back, which in turn, forces him to move over. I shift my boxers so that they're aligned properly and let out a sigh, as if all of this movement so early has worn me out.

Could've been from of the night before.

"Kyle?" I whisper, peering over to the most unexpected surprise I've gotten since I've been here.

He says nothing. Like I said before, it's always been a task to wake Kyle up. This time, I have better resources.

I flip all the way over to my other side so that I'm facing him. At the sound of his light snores, I extend my neck forward and press my lips onto his soft cheek. Even in sleep, it still blushes. I continue delivering featherlike kisses on his cheek, his nose, and his chin before reaching his slightly parted mouth. Applying heavier pressure, I mold our lips together until I feel him kissing back.

I suppose it's the shock of waking up that way that causes him to grab my arms with an iron grip. His eyes snap open and he stares at me as though what I did was the most terrible thing ever. I retract my head and cower away. But in doing so, he must realize his overreaction, because he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer.

"Good morning," he greets with a smile.

"Hey," I answer back, feeling how contagious his grin is.

"How did you sleep?"

I crease my eyebrows. "I don't think these beds are built for two."

His smile fades to worry. "Are you okay?"

I grin wider. "I think I'll be fine." My body, especially my neck and shoulders, are probably another thing. I lightly finger the spots where Kyle seemed to appreciate more than others. Obviously I can't see or feel anything, but I can only imagine the red spots left behind.

"I was a little overzealous wasn't I?" He questions and I wrinkle my nose at the vocabulary.

"Its not as if I didn't respond."

"…Maybe you should wear a collar today," he lightly suggests.

"That bad?"

"You can always say you had an allergic reaction to the Russian food."

"On my neck?"

"And your collar bone, and shoulders and," he pauses to peek over me. "And your back."

We laugh lightly together before it fades awkwardly. Kyle starts to rub my arms in a gently soothing manner before I stop him. It's not to say that I don't love the feeling. I do. I love the step we've taken and I honestly can't wait for more, but at the same time I haven't forgotten anything I've learned from last night, or the night before.

He looks at me curiously and I reach over and brush my hands over the crest on his back. He instantly tenses and stares at me hard. Funny how he didn't notice this last night.

"When did you get this?" I ask as oblivious as possible.

Kyle doesn't answer, rather he continues to stare. I can practically see his eyes asking me not to pry, but if I was playing the honest innocent guy, I would be genuinely curious.

"I thought you were against tattoo's," I add, trying to make my tone sound blasé and merely curious. "And even so…" I run my hand more firmly over the crest. "Most tattoo's don't leave this feeling of cut open skin. Almost feels like a-"

He interrupts me by rolling his shoulders lightly to get my hand off his back. "I forgot to tell you," he says instead. "Baseball tryouts start this Wednesday. I didn't know if you've seen the flyers or not, or if you are even considering it, but I think you should."

I shrug, mildly miffed that he'll still change subjects so abruptly on me. "Haven't really thought much more about it," I respond honestly.

"Well, I think it'd be in JV's best interest to have you," he furthers, propping himself up on his elbow and looming over me. "Of course, I may be biased."

I laugh. Okay. This is more like the Kyle I know. Maybe…maybe all we needed was…for that to happen. Now we're closer than ever, right? Right? I counterattack his hand that comes down to tickle my side. "I'm not sure if that's what I should be focusing on…right now…" I say in between jerks to keep him away.

He stops playing and looks at me seriously. "Stan, I think you SHOULD. It's for the betterment of the team! There isn't a guy out there who looks as cute in his cleats and uniform as you do."

"Not even Miller?" I say, instantly regretting it.

He drops his head back and lets out a loud sigh. A sigh of extreme annoyance. Yeah, I shouldn't have said it. I'm kicking myself for doing so. Still, Miller is somewhat of an enemy, since he is the one telling me I'll be the relief pitcher.

"Can we NOT talk about anyone else for a little while? Is that okay?" he asks, a little bit angrier than I feel he should.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'll shut up now." I lean in to kiss him again, but he pulls away. Way to kill the mood, Stan.

Kyle disentangles himself from me and I watch as he busies himself with picking up the articles of clothing we abandoned last night. He isn't trying to hide the crest; guess there's no point now. He tosses the clothes in our laundry bin before going through drawers, pulling out fresh clothing.

"You should get up soon, we still have classes you know," he says to me as he continues to grab what he needs. "I'm taking a shower," he says just as he slips out the door.

At the shut of the door, I groan and fall back onto the bed, doing exactly what he told me not to do. So he's irritated at me again, no surprise there. I stay where I am, looking at the ceiling, and when he returns he lets out a snort.

"Haven't moved an inch, I see."

"Fine," I say in a bored voice.

"Fine what?"

"Fine, I'll try out for the baseball team tomorrow."

"Don't do it just because I want you to do it," he responds as he makes a few noises, going through his notebooks and such.

"I'm not," I protest. Not entirely anyway. I really would rather take a year off from sports all together, but at this point I'll do anything to keep Kyle and me on good terms. And it'll help to see Miller's face when he sees just how damn good I am.

"Right, I can see your excitement shining through," he tells me dully. "I have to meet a few people so I'm heading to breakfast and class on my own."

I lift only my head to acknowledge his departure. "You leaving now?"

He half-smiles at me and walks over to the door. "That was the plan, yes."

"Okay." I drop my head back to its original spot. "See ya," I respond lazily. I listen for the door as it closes, then latches, and then locks. I don't know why, but I get the feeling like he's barred me in—I'm his prisoner. That's ridiculous, though. He just told me to get up.

My body heavily protests this. I extend my arms high above my head and flex my feet, stretching with a deep breath. I've been cruel to my body with my less-than-adequate sleeping conditions the past few days. The first night, I'd rather have been in my bed. Last night, though, it'll just have to deal with. And possibly get used to.

Still, I can't shake the dreaded feeling in the pit of my stomach that forms each time I allow my happiness to shine through. I'm taking the bad with the good, I guess. Kyle wants me to join his absurd cult, and I am the next recruit. They said so in their meeting. I can't believe I was so dense I couldn't put two-and-two together.

Wait a minute. What if…what if everything Kyle is doing is because he wants me to join? He obviously knows how much he means to me. He found out just how much last night. What if…what if this is all some ploy to get me to do what he wants? To soften me up so I fold under pressure? Fuck! This is making my brain hurt.

I know I ought to be spending more time thinking this through. If Kyle really thinks he can recruit me over to the HHS, I need to think of something to counteract that. At the same time…I don't want him to know that I know that he's planning on doing just that. And would he really be trying to soften me up? I can't imagine that what I felt, and what he must have felt last night, was all some damn ploy. I know Kyle's changed, but he can't possibly have become cruel. Not like that.

At the same time, he was the one who made that suggestion about getting rid of Austin.

Ugh! I sit up and run both my hands through my hair in frustration. I need a shower. I'll get back to all this later.

Hopping out of bed, I pull on a t-shirt and some sweat pants. I grab an extra towel to drape over my neck and peek in the mirror. The marks are still noticeable but I doubt anyone will notice. Taking my stuff I head to the showers, opting to take one in a private shower yet again. The last thing I need is the guys questioning me about my red marks. I'm not sure how, or rather if I want to, bother explaining that. Probably something better kept to myself.

"Hey Stan since when did you get so shy?" One of the guys hollers out as I close the curtain.

I'm not entirely sure what to say. Sure these guys have always been nice to me, more or less. But at the same time they've been somewhat distant like everyone else in this college, and now all of a sudden they're acknowledging me again? I squeeze my body wash as I start the shower, ignoring whoever called out to me.

Kyle must've said something. I'm half pleased, half annoyed.

Quickly getting my morning rituals over with, I finish the shower; change and head back to the room, still ignoring the friendly questions about my sudden interest in privacy.

Once back in the room I look myself over. Jeans and a collared shirt. Shouldn't be anything worth thinking over except that I never wear collared shirts, and this one doesn't hide a damn thing on my neck. What am I supposed to do, wear the collar up like some prep? I cringe at the thought, I've seen Miller in propped collars and frankly, while I'm not dissing the style, I don't want anyone to think I picked it up from him.

Well fuck them. It's not like I have any other reasonable options.

It almost quarter till 10, and I've got Calculus in fifteen minutes. Whoever decided it would be a good idea to have a math class everyday should be shot. But at least in there I can slump down and pretend I don't exist. My drafting class is what I'm worried about.

Glancing outside, I see that it's starting to snow. The lightweight flakes float over to the window, attach themselves, and immediately melt off. PERFECT! I turn to my closet and dig out the overgrown tan scarf my mom bought me to 'battle the winter cold'. Never thought I'd say this, but I'm really glad she gave it to me. Maybe I can just pretend I'm cold all day.

Slipping the scarf over my jacket, I gather my books and my book bag and head off to class. The winter precipitation is dusting the ground lightly, and I feel it seep into my sneakers as I walk hastily to class. It really is freaking cold out here.

Making it into the room with four minutes to spare, I opt for the closest seat to the door and slide down out of sight. I've made few friends in this class—much like every other one I'm in—and don't intend for that to change anytime soon. As the clock on the wall clicks over to 10:00, I dig out my pencil and notebook and prepare for another fun-filled lecture.

Halfway through the first minute of the professor chatting away, I feel sweat beads accumulating inside the material of the scarf. What is it…like 180 degrees in here? Is it ALWAYS this damn hot? I swear, the world's against me.

And to make matters worse, this class is just swimming with HHS members. Austin might've said that they aren't chosen for their smarts, but I don't think any of them are dumb either. They can't be to be in this class. Subconsciously, I feel their eyes glued to me. The professor, oblivious as ever to his students, continues rambling on about derivatives as they begin chatting. I try my best to ignore them, but when a few of them look over and say, "hey Stan," I have no choice but to whisper back, "what!"

Nothing comes from their useless banter, but I continue to grow uncomfortable in the sub tropic environment. I know if I keep this jacket on, I'm going to end up roasting like a rotisserie chicken. Trying to be nonchalant, I unbutton my jacket and remove my scarf, almost immediately hunching my shoulders and sloping down into my seat.

Okay, maybe that was more obvious.

Damn, it's like my doing that alerted them and I can practically feel ten pairs of eyes zoomed in on me. Why cant these assholes mind their own business! Trying to be suave about it, I prop my collar back up, but I'm pretty sure it's too late. I try to keep my eyes on the lecture and the figures being drawn by the professor, but my mind is so far from anything related to math.

It's hard to act like I don't notice them staring, when I know very well that they are and at what.

"Jesus Christ man," I hear someone hiss, and I glare over at the guy sitting to the right of me.

"What?!" I hiss back, trying to feign annoyance.

"What happened to your neck?!"

I try to take control of my emotions, but I can feel the heat rise in my face. I turn back to face the front of the class, "rash," I mutter. It's a disgusting thought, but its not like it's uncommon.

"From what?" he hisses again, and this time I choose to ignore him. He's HHS so I shouldn't even be talking with him in the first place.

When our teacher excuses us, I practically bolt from the room before I can be asked anything else. Luckily for me it's still cold as hell outside, and I swing my scarf back over my neck in relief. Couldn't my mom have thought to get me a lighter scarf instead of this gigantic wool one?! There's no way I can keep this up all day! Maybe I should skip until the redness fades away…Damn Kyle! I'm not letting him near easily exposed skin again! He had to know exactly what he was doing!

I slump my shoulders knowing I can't skip my next class. It's my technical drawing class, and while it's my favorite, its also only once a week. Skipping a three-hour class is like skipping a weeks worth of physics. Stupid. Though I still have an hour to kill time, and my stomach is more than happy to suggest what I ought to do to kill that time.

As I enter the mess hall, I decide they must be doing a Hawaiian theme today. Not only is everyone wearing lays and those stupid flowered shirts, I swear they set the thermostat to: incinerate Stan. I duck into line quickly, grabbing a few pineapple and ham sis kabobs and some mango salsa. Almost as swiftly, I fill my glass up with that awesome fresh lemonade they have, pay for my meal, and head over to Austin and I's usual table. At least now I'll be able to sit with my back facing the wall of HHS members starting to pile up in the dining room.

Unbuttoning my jacket and unwinding the scarf, I place them next to me on the booth. Just to make sure, I pop my collar before digging in.

Good thing too. Because when one of the damned suddenly plops down in front of me without an invitation, I about choke on my pineapple. "Jason!" I acknowledge, reaching for my lemonade.

"Hey Stan," he replies. I watch as he unrolls his napkin and places his silverware on the table. He looks like he's getting comfortable there. Like he plans to stay awhile.

I chew cautiously, eyeing him as he begins to cut his own slab of ham. I don't know if my face shows how shocked I am, but I can feel myself radiating it. He finally looks up mid bite.

"Can I…help you?" I ask as politely as possible.

"Why yes, you can," he says cheerily. He leans over the table with his fork in hand. "Stan, I'm not so sure we started off on the right foot. Here I was trying to befriend you and you felt even more alienated because of my acceptance with Miller."

I shrug. I wish I could have an honest conversation with this guy. I wish I could pretend I didn't know exactly what he was trying to do. But all I can think of is that fire poker hissing as it contacted his bare skin.

He takes another bite, chews it, and takes a swig of water. "I'm going to level with you. I really think we ought to start over. We're both here for the same reason, right?"

Huh? Is he here for Austin? He couldn't be! He refuses to acknowledge his existence.

He looks at me like he's waiting for me to answer him. "You know. Architecture? Stan? Are you okay?"

Oh. Architecture. He's here because he's studying to be an architect. And so am I. That's right. "Yeah, I'm fine," I mumble, not really wishing this conversation to go any further.

"And since we're in the same major it only makes sense for us to band together. It may be a prominent department here, but we're still one of the smallest."

"Look," I start as I stab my food. "I'm not interested in "banding together" with a guy that pretty much trapped me in a staircase a few weeks ago."

I watched unamused as Jason laughs lightly. As if it was a joke between friends and all should be forgiven. All is not forgiven, and I'm not going to pretend that it is. I may choose not to talk shit about the HHS in front for Kyle, but that by no means, means I have to deal with them.

"Sorry about that," he says as he calms himself down. Jason gives me an easy smile and I dart my eyes to my food. "Miller likes to be precautious about everything. Besides, no harm done right?"

I snort and continue to eat.

"And we got along before you knew what group I belonged to, didn't we? We could be really good friends," he adds, saying the same thing Kyle's said me. I can't deny that, I HAD felt like Jason was going to be a good friend. But still…

"I make it a habit to trust my friends," I say and stand up, tray and all. Screw this, I can take my food to go and eat by myself in a hallway for all I care. I refuse to be suddenly accepted into this warmth the HHS seems to be dishing out.

"Stan?" He calls out and I wonder why I've stopped. At least to my credit, I don't turn around. "Don't you want your jacket and things?"

Cringing, I turn on my heel and without looking at him, I slip it and my scarf on only to pick up my tray and take my leave once more. "Hey," he says before I have the chance to leave the table.

"What, what do you want?" I question in irritation. I just want to leave!

He eyes me silently, looking me over and I tense slightly when he looks at my scarf, but his eyes continue over me until they reach my eyes once more. "You mean a lot to Kyle you know," he says simply. I'm taken aback from what he's said and he must realize it because his face lights up slightly and a smile creeps onto his lips. "But the HHS means a lot to him as well. Bye Stan."

As I'm left standing there, I watch him gather his things and retreat to a few guys I don't know. I'm not sure if they're HHS or not, but I can't see Jason hanging out with anyone else.

"Bye Danny," I respond. I don't whisper it, but I don't shout it out. I can tell he heard me, but he doesn't acknowledge what I said. I don't make too big of deal about it myself, and hoist my tray into one hand. I weave in and out of oncoming traffic, heading for the doors. I'll just duck into the hallway and eat on a bench. The crowd seems larger than usual though, and I'm halted by a massive traffic jam directly in front of me. When they finally do clear out, I try proceeding forward only to find that my scarf is caught on something. I turn around and glance down, seeing that someone must've pushed my scarf in with his empty chair simultaneously. Yanking it free, I turn back around and practically slam into Miller's hand. He holds me back from entering his personal space with a strong, cautionary forearm.

"You better watch where you're going, Stanley," he warns.

I roll my eyes. He may think he can boss around the whole damn school, but I will not bow down to him. His threats are meaningless to me. Especially when he addresses me as Stanley. "Get out of my way, Miller."

He chooses to ignore my command and instead ruffles my winter clothing, securing the scarf between his fingers. "Where are you going in such a hurry," he asks, not really interested in the answer to his question.

"Leave me alone," I demand.

He drops the scarf and looks at me with a titled head. "Suited up for the winter, are you?" Nothing in his tone makes me think that he, for a second, is trying to make conversation. He has a goal. And I'm pretty damn sure it's to humiliate me with my 'rash.' I only threw on the scarf to get the hell out of here. Its not even covering me.

"It IS snowing outside," I grumble.

His eyes rove over my neck, concentrating on any visible red splotches. His pupils dilate and I see something inside of him explode. But he doesn't show it on the outside except for a mild twitch to the eye. I almost want to parade it around in his face as he cries himself into defeat, but I refuse to sink to his level. Instead, I stand up straight and allow him to study me. If I say and do nothing, it won't be my fault when he blows up.

"Baseball tryouts start tomorrow," he states matter-of-factly.

"Kyle told me."

"Kyle's done a lot for you," he decides with flared nostrils.

"He always has," I agree.

He takes a deep breath before speaking. "They start at 3. Don't be late. They don't wait around for the second string players." With that said, he seemingly passes through me, taking his seat next to some HHS members I don't know and don't care to know. I glare, taking a deep breath myself. When my feet begin moving again, they head straight over to the trash where I dump my tray. Fuck eating, I'm getting the hell out of this building.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I waste no time in leaving. It's still pretty early and I probably have over a half hour to waste before my technical drawing class starts. Once outside, I look in the direction of the dorms and decide its not worth walking all the way back there to spend some random amount of time doing nothing before heading back over in this direction.

The classroom should probably be empty so I guess I can always hang out there for a while. Maybe even attempt to do some work as I sure as hell need to. I'm falling slightly behind in that class and seeing as how it's my favorite, I feel like I ought to be doing better. Ducking my head down slightly so as to avoid getting snowflakes in my eyes, I make my way slowly across the quad to the correct building. The quad is pretty empty given the time of day, but I suppose most people are either in class or in the mess hall.

My drawing class is actually the only class I have that's in the building mostly for the architecture department, and seeing how I only have this class once a week, I'm rarely here. Shame since it's such a nice building, but there is one thing I don't like about it, and it's the resounding silence that's always in the hallways. You'd think no one ever used it for the lack of noise throughout the different floors.

When I step into my classroom I'm surprised to see one other student hunched in front of a computer, clicking away. Glancing at the clock I see that I only spent about fifteen minutes eating, or attempting too. I have a lot of time to spare. At the shut of the door, the guy's back springs straight and he whips his head to look at me.

I recognize him of course, but I've never talked to him before.

"Hey," I greet and shuffle my way through the desks, and tables to get to the computer I normally tend to occupy. It's practically across the room from the other guy, so it's no wonder we've never talked before. "You're kinda early," I point out as I slide into my seat and dump my bag on the floor.

"I could say the same about you," he says back and at the sound of his voice, my blood runs cold and I stare lifelessly into the blank computer screen.

"Do you normally come here at this time?" I ask, trying my best to not show the discomfort I feel from his presence. That face…that VOICE! I now know where I recognize him from, and it's not from this class. Hell, I haven't paid attention to a damn person in here other than the professor. I don't need to. No, he was one of those guys in charge of making sure nobody breached the doors at the HHS meeting. One of the guys whose stupidity let me in.

He shrugs and turns to face me. "I've got a class in the drafting room down the hall before this, so when I get out of there, I head on into here. But you're never early, Stan." The sound of my name lingers in his voice and in his eyes. He's looking at me like I should be confessing something.

"You…you know my name," I reply hoarsely. Of course he does. They all do now.

"I make it a point to learn my classmates' names."

I frown. "You've never talked to me before," I point out.

He purses his lips and considers this. "That's true." Turning his head, he smiles at me. "Which is why I'm starting now. The name's Marc," he continues, standing up out of his seat and moving toward me with an open hand. Does he expect me to greet him with a friendly handshake? How I can do that when I know the only reason he's even interested in me is because his cult wants me for their next member? And Marc…Marc, Marc, Marc. I remember that name too. I remember hearing it when I was in their meeting.

I reluctantly stick out my hand to feign interest. "I'm Stan. But you already knew that."

He chuckles lightly, grasping my hand and taking the seat next to mine. "Sure did. You're Kyle's friend."

"I am," I agree, and suddenly get very self-conscious of my neck and any other evidence that I'm more than just Kyle's 'friend'. What the hell does this guy even want anyway? He's trying so hard to be nice, but he'll never be my brother. Ugh, brother. I can't even say that word without thinking of-

"Kyle is a good friend to Miller Bradley. I'm an old friend of Miller's." He looks at me to see if I've made sense of the personal connection he made between us. I stare at him blankly, and he begins this hand gesture of drawing a circle with his fingers in the air. "That's how we know each other."

"Is that so." I am thoroughly bored of this conversation, and I'm not really sure where he's planning on going with it. But the more I sit there and say nothing, the more he thinks of things to chat about. None of which make even a remote difference in my opinion of him. He's still scum, and he's still part of the demon society that's taken my best friend/whatever he is to me now.

I can tell he's trying too hard. He must be a weak one in their "perfect" society. If he says too much, then I can use it against him.

"Listen, Marc, is it?" I respond, putting my hand on his shoulder and pretending to be sincere. "Look, I came here early hoping to get some work done. So if you don't mind…"

"Oh not at all. Don't mind me, brother," he says with smile. I shoot my eyes to his direction, glaring at him in shock. In response, he winks at me and continues to stare.

Does he think that's amusing? That I won't catch it? Of course he doesn't know I was at the last HHS meeting, but is he an idiot? He shouldn't have risked tossing around the word 'brother' like that! It'd make anyone suspicious whether or not they've seen and heard what I have.

I turn back to my computer and switch it on. I wait for it to boot up when the sound of Marc's insistent typing and clicking grabs my attention. I glance over at him once I've entered the correct program. He looks like he knows exactly what he's doing; he's flying through the steps and diagrams like he's dealt with them before.

I, on the other hand, most definitely have never dealt with it before. It's obvious because I'm a little slow, and I'm easily lost when I make a mistake.

"Damnit," I mutter to myself when I realize I've accidentally deleted something without knowing how.

"Having trouble?" Marc's voice rings out over the mostly empty classroom and I sigh into a slouch.

"I'm fine," I practically growl back.

"If you say so," he responds, almost cheerfully, before going back to his own work.

It's not even a few minutes later before I swear to myself again. When I feel a light pressure on my shoulder, I jump and swear again. I look up at Marc and let out an irritated sigh, "you sure do know how to sneak up on people."

He beams at me, but doesn't respond to that comment, which I find rather interesting. "It sounds like you need some help."

"I do not need," I watch him fall into the seat beside me. "Help," I finish lamely. "Okay so this program isn't really my forte," I mumble. "But I can figure it out myself, so if you would be so kind as to get the hel – how'd you do that?" The drawing I had accidentally deleted pops back onto the screen. I thought I had lost it.

"It's simple," he starts, and before I know it, Marc is explaining and showing me how to do things I figured I'd never learn in one day. I'm almost amazed how much he knows, and it's not until other people start trickling in that I realize we've lost track of time. Marc stands when the guy who normally occupies his spot turns up. "Dude…thanks," I say surprised. "But what about your own work?"

"I was working on extra credit, and you're welcome. If you ever need more help, let me know okay?"

I find myself nodding slowly and even smiling, until I see him walk away and meet up with another guy I've never talked too. Not a member, but a cheerleader of the HHS. Shit, in that time, I forgot Marc was one of them. He was so helpful and even nice to me, while I was being a tad bitter toward him. How could the HHS get a guy like him? He may lack knowledge in the common sense department, but the guy knows his tech drawing shit. And he was patient with me, something I've come to realize not a lot of people have when I don't understand something.

That pisses me off. First Jason, now Marc. Every time I think I've found someone worth hanging out with, they turn out to be cult members. That only puts me in a mood, and I'm not able to focus during class, even though its three hours. Every once in awhile I glance over at Marc, and every so often he catches me, only to give me a bright smile before turning his attention back to the lecture.

At one point, I glance over and see him whispering to his groupie. I see them both shoot their eyes ever so quickly over to me and then the lackey smiles. Marc nods and goes back to whatever it is he was doing. What is it with their secrets? I feel like I'm in fucking high school again!

Soon enough, the professor dismisses us from his tutelage, and we are turned loose to explore the program that Marc helped me out with. He tells us once we've finished the preliminary drawing, we are allowed to go. Thanks to Marc, I complete the prelim and even begin on a final one before I decide to call it quits. I save it to my disc and exit the program. Peeking over to see Marc and his buddy still hard at work, I feel it's probably best for me to leave without drawing attention to myself. In doing this, I pull on my coat and scarf before walking over to the professor's desk to drop off my saved work. Before I exit the room, I see Marc look up from his desk and wave at me. I wave back cautiously then walk into the hallway.

That was relatively easy today. Hey! Feeling that way brightens my spirits, no matter whatever the hell else is going on in my life. I allow a smile to creep out as I make my way out of the building and back to the dorms.

My happiness is short lived. As I near the mess hall, I feel my stomach rumbling. Its not the average 'I'm hungry, I need to eat' rumble either. It lasts for several seconds, making me think my stomach is angry with me for depriving it food. I should probably get at least a snack before going back. Upon my arrival, I try my best to go unnoticed through the large quantity of HHS members dwelling in the dining area. They seem to ignore me. Good. I like it better that way.

But one person doesn't ignore me. I inwardly cringe when I see a familiar head of brown head my way. Weird. Austin is actually on my list of people I don't want to see.

I greet him just the same. "Hey man, how's it going?"

He stops right in front of me and huffs. "It's been better."

I shift my weight nervously. "What's going on?"

"I was hoping you could tell me, Stan," he bites back, crossing his arms. "Are you trying to avoid me, or are you just really damn good at it?"

"Austin," I sigh.

"No, no making excuses. Right now, I have nothing to do except listen to your explanation." He looks around. "Do you need to be somewhere?"

My shoulders drop, and I suddenly feel amazingly guilty. Guess he did his job. "No."

"Okay then. So what's goin-"

"Not here," I warn him. Thankfully, he senses my precaution and why, and he lets me pay for my granola bar before we exit the room and head back to his dorm together.

"Alright, explain," he says even before he's completely shut his door.

I settle myself down on his desk chair and think of ways to possibly prolong the inevitable. It wont be hard to tell him about the HHS meeting, but…I'm not sure how I'll break the news to him about Jason—his Danny's inauguration.

"Maybe you should…sit," I hesitantly tell him. He's looming over me looking like he might pounce, and its not doing so well for my nerves.

"Standing's fine, it'll make you think twice before you try to lie to my face." Gotta give him points there. He might be shorter than me, but he has the whole pissed off intimidation thing down. It's almost uncanny how alike he and Kenny are…

"You'll want to sit," I repeat.

"And I'm telling you I'd rather stand," he snaps.

"Fine," I sigh and look at the flooring. "Last Sunday, um, when I told you to cover for me about my whereabouts should Kyle ask?"

"Yeah?" He prods, obviously not happy that I'm taking my time spitting out what he wants to know.

"I was at…"

"Stan!" He almost shouts.

"I was at an HHS meeting," I rush out. Letting out a breath, I peek my eyes to look up at him.

He's narrowing his eyes, almost as if he doesn't believe me. But I feel like he knows that I shouldn't, and wouldn't, lie about something like this. He darts his eyes toward his bed before slowly making his way to it and sitting himself down.

"An HHS meeting?" He questions slowly, and I nod. "Do you think I'm fucking stupid?"

"What?!"

"You want me to believe that you got into a High Honors Society meeting and that you didn't get caught? And I'm assuming you didn't get caught because you're still you. The asshole version of you, but you nonetheless."

"Hey!" I contest, feeling like he's jumping to conclusions. "I'm not being an asshole!"

"Now you're being a whiny asshole," he corrects. "Tell me what this is really about, Stan."

"I'm trying to, Aust-"

"I saw you with Danny today," he barks. "What was that all about, huh?"

My eyes go wide. "You…you, uh, you saw that, huh?" Wait a minute, why am I stuttering? That's only going to make me sound guiltier!

"And you two were sitting at our table, Stan. What was he doing? What could've he possibly had to say to you?"

"He was just talking-"

"What do ANY of them possibly have to say to you? They're acting different, Stan. YOU'RE acting different. What happened?" He folds his arms and waits for me to answer.

I shift uncomfortably in my jacket and scarf. I've never seen him like this before. "I'll start from the beg-"

"And take off that damn jacket, you're clinging to it like you've got a fucking bomb under it." His motions freeze and he stares at me accusingly. "…Oh God, they've gotten to you. You're their ticket! You're going to blow me up!" He begins backing away from me on his bed.

At this insane allegation, I bolt out of my chair and kneel down in front of him. I put my hands on his knees soothingly. "Austin, that is crazy talk! They didn't get to me." He stares down at me, looking ready to defend himself should I attack. I slowly remove my hands to take off my jacket. When it opens to my shirt, he sees that I don't have anything strapped to me. Then I remove my scarf so he can see there's no wires or anything taped to me. Lastly, I lift my shirt so he can see for himself. Nothing.

"See? I'm clean. I swear to you."

His eyes widen as they roam my skin. "Jesus Christ, what happened to you!"

Confused, I push my shirt back down and roll my eyes around. "What?" I ask with a creased brow.

"Your body! It looks like you were attacked with a vacuum!"

"OH!" I yell. I immediately grab my jacket and try to zip it back up, erasing any possibility that Austin just saw what I know he saw, but he stops me with caring hands.

As he looks into my eyes, I see understanding. "You're telling me the truth, aren't you."

Sighing, I drop my hands and nod.

He looks around me and extends an arm and hand to help me up, as though I'm some groveling slave and he just exonerated me. "Get up off the floor," he commands. I accept his offering and take a seat next to him on the bed. "You're right. Start from the beginning."

I take a deep breath to collect my thoughts. "Well, I guess when Kyle attacked me, I decided I had to find out what they were doing in that damn cult."

"Kyle attacked you?" he asks incredulously.

I nod again. "Only…it wasn't the kind of attack that you'd think." I close my eyes, remembering every feeling, every…touch…that occurred. I shiver. "He more or less tied me down with his body and told me I'm his," I finish in one breath.

Austin's eyes widen and he doesn't blink for a very long time. When he does, its only because he had to tell himself to do it.

"Yeeeah…so I made it a point to follow him to his meeting, and yes, I did it. I managed to get through without being seen too."

"How did you-"

"That's not important. What IS important is that I heard a lot of shit I wasn't supposed to hear and," I shake my head, "SAW a lot of shit I wasn't supposed to see. And…" He looks at me, his every breath hitched on what I have to say. "…And I know their plans for the future."

I watch as the color slowly drains from Austin's face. "Doesn't sound like good news," he says softly.

"Guess it depends who you talk to…I know who they want to recruit next."

At this he scoffs and sighs to himself, "probably some guy who'd sell his own mother to join anyway. I'm sure he'll be a happy guy."

"Not exactly," I mutter.

"Not exactly?" He repeats in confusion. "Who wouldn't want to join the HHS?"

"Well," I tilt my head to the side. "You."

Austin scoffs loudly and lets out a crude half laugh, "yeah okay, someone besides me."

I stare at him silently, and watch as the dawning comes into his eyes. He's suddenly gripping my wrists and leaning in closer. "No," he says deadpanned, and I nod. "No way…" he breaths out. "But…no, I mean…why? Since when?" His eyes narrow. "This is Kyle's doing isn't it?"

I sigh. "Could be. But…things aren't exactly the same between us anymore either."

At this, Austin snorts and gestures at my neck. "Obviously."

I drop my jaw and opt to stare at the floor. My cheeks are heating up and I'm pretty sure I'm three shades redder than a few seconds before. "That…uh…well he…"

"That was from another attack, wasn't it," Austin fills in for me. He chuckles to himself. "Bet you didn't mind that one too much."

My eyes snap up to meet his. "I don't think this has anything to do with the fact they want me. It's completely separate!" I lower my voice. "At least, I hope it is."

Austin sighs and places a caring hand on my forearm. "You didn't have to lie to me before, you know. I knew you had a thing for Kyle."

"I'm gonna feel like such an idiot if this all just some scheme to get me to join," I mutter.

"Its not," Austin states simply. He removes his arm and looks out his window. "Besides, you have bigger things to worry about."

"Like?"

He turns to me again. "Like saving Kyle."

I wish I could believe him. I wish that his words were inspiring and gave me a sense of hope I didn't have before. But I know now, after what I've seen, that it won't be as easy as that. It's not about saving him anymore. It's about reforming him. Restoring him. Resuscitating him. It'll be a lot more work than me telling him I don't want him to be a part of some cult he's promised himself too. We're going to need intervention. A flawless plan of attack.

"Stan?" Austin asks, interrupting my daydreams.

"Yeah?"

"Its not too late for him. You still have his heart. You can get him out of there." Austin speaks with a sense of hopelessness, and I know that, in his heart, he's given up on Danny. I shudder to think what he'd say or do if I told him what I know about his former best friend. I'm not sure I ever should.

"I wonder about that heart of his," I respond. "If it's really the Kyle I know, or if it's someone else's. I wonder who did this to me," I say gesturing toward my neck. "My Kyle, or the JV influenced him. After everything I learned at the HHS meeting, after seeing that, that brand on his back, seeing someone get branded with a sizzling fire poker and knowing Kyle went through that willingly?" I shake my head to myself. "I could be setting myself up, I don't know how I'll get him out."

"They brand their members?" Austin questions, his lip curling in disgust.

"Not all of them, but…I felt Kyle's, I saw his. From the way Miller was talking about it, and yes," I snort as Austin opens his mouth to ask something. "Miller did the branding, no surprise there." Austin raises an eyebrow in agreement before I continue. "From the way he was going on about it, it sounds like only the hardcore members are branded…which makes me feel so…almost hopeless."

Austin is nodding as if he completely understands, but there's a distance in his gaze.

"…what is it?" I question nervously, though I already know exactly what's bothering him.

He makes sure to meet me square in the eye, and though he tries to look as if he doesn't really care, I notice it's seeping through anyway. "Jason have one?"

I knew it. Even so, I've no idea what to say. I can't simply say yes, I don't want to sound blasé about it. It's Jason after all, his Danny. But it seems like my silence is more than enough of an answer for him.

"I see," he mutters.

He may now know that Jason is branded, but there is no way that I'll ever tell him I actually saw it happen. I think that would be too much for him, it'd be too much for me to say.

"You can't give up on Danny, man," I coax him with an encouraging voice. Mainly because I know that it took Jason THIS long to get branded. Kyle…Jesus, Kyle was branded probably in the first month. Because of Miller. Because that bastard wants my boyfriend.

Austin raises his eyebrows and takes a deep breath, not really looking in my direction. "Like I said before, I'll help you out with Kyle. Danny's a lost cause."

"Don't you want to be with him?" I blurt out.

"Well yeah, but not who he is now!"

"Of course," I say automatically. "What we need is a plan. Talking to them isn't cutting it anymore. We need to take action. I'm through sitting around and watching this…thing…destroy Ky."

He gives me a weird look. "You can have all the action you want." I smile at the comment. "I'm happy sitting here and-"

"And what?" I rudely interrupt. "Sitting there and doing what? Just…waiting around for your Danny to come back? To magically reappear, free of any ills that the damn cult gave him? Completely cured of its evil?" I lean in close. "Austin, you're the one who told me about how horrible the HHS really was. You're the one who hates them even more than I do! Yet you sit there and do nothing. You wait day in, day out, going to class hoping that maybe, just maybe, one day, Danny will come back. WELL GUESS WHAT?!?! He's not coming back unless we bring him back in shackles! So get that brain of yours geared up, we've got to think of something great!"

For the longest time, he frowns at me. His eyes are narrowed and I'm not sure whether I pissed him off or made him 'see the light'. Either way, I have some sort of effect on him, and that's what I was going for. I will never understand how he can put down the HHS for taking Danny, but at the same time be 'okay' with it. Maybe he doesn't love Danny like I do Kyle, but I know he means SOMETHING to him. Otherwise, he'd have left the school a long time ago, he said so himself.

"What are you suggesting we do?" he finally asks.

I smile. He's on board. "I think its time I invite Kenny over for a weekend. Three heads are better than two."

Austin laughs. "This brilliant plan of yours going to include any drug busts, or explosives, or another asinine idea from that friends of yours?"

My grin extends. "We'll find a way to get them out. I can't imagine my life without Kyle."

"Best leave the explosives at home then," Austin replies. He snorts and I go back to pondering how we're ever going to get those two to stray from the pack. One thing's certain. I'm not going to lose him.

I refuse to say goodbye to Kyle.

- iBB and f G