A/N- I don't think there are very many chapters left for this story. We'll see. Review, please, let me know what you think.

"So, are you ready to grow up yet, Peter Pan?" Kenny asked, pouring me the glass of whiskey I'd requested.

I shook my head with a small chuckle. "No, but I doubt I ever will be."

He laughed a little as he handed me my drink. "Yeah, I didn't think so. How was your week at the castle? Enlightening?"

"Dude, Cartman is loaded," I blurted out. I hadn't been able to express my shock and wonder to anyone yet and I didn't realize how much I'd wanted to.

"Right?" Kenny replied, sounding equally as enthusiastic. "I've only been over there like twice, but it's a fucking mansion. What does he do for a living?"

I shook my head. "No idea. I was a little scared to ask." I paused, processing what he'd said. "Wait, when were you at Cartman's house?"

He shrugged. "I visited him a couple times when he first moved in. He didn't seem too thrilled about it."

"When did he move in?" I asked, glad to be talking about this instead of the really pressing matter.

"Right around when his mom died, I think. Said he didn't want to stay in her house."

"So he just locked himself away and mourned by himself?" I shook my head. "I'll never understand that guy."

Kenny laughed. "Well, you did just spend a week with him. You probably understand him better than the rest of us right now."

I shrugged. "He's a weird guy."

Kenny nodded and smiled. There were a few minutes of silence as Kenny seemed to be considering what to say. I knew he was trying to figure out a delicate way to bring up Wendy and Kyle, but I just waited. I wasn't going to help him bring up this subject."

"So, Stan," he started, his voice a little strained. "I feel like we have something we should talk about."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied, making a show of nonchalantly sipping my whiskey.

He laughed. "Come on, Stan."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You know, Ken, I really don't know what there's left to say."

"Dude, 'what there's left?' You haven't even started talking about this, how could you run out of things to say?" He raised an eyebrow at me and it made me want to hit him.

"I think I need another whiskey," I said, looking at my empty glass.

He sighed and stood up, taking my glass to go refill it. "Of course, because you can't fucking talk about anything real unless you're drunk."

"Dude, lay off," I said as he put the full glass back in front of me. I took a big sip, avoiding his disapproving eyes.

"You remind me of my dad sometimes," he said sharply. He clenched his jaw and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

I glared at him. "Low blow, dude. That was unnecessary."

His cold look dropped, replaced by his usual carefree smile. He put his hands up, like he was surrendering. "Conversation for another day," he said. "So what are you gonna do? With Wendy, I mean."

I sighed. "I don't know. I don't think I can be with her anymore."

He nodded. "Yeah, I understand." He paused. "I think it'd be better to deal with that sooner rather than later."

I looked at the ground. My eyes started to tear up a little. "Yeah. I know."

"But only if you're sure," he said quickly.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "You know, I should maybe go. Just get it over with."

"Okay," he said carefully. "Well, you can stay here tonight, if you want."

I nodded. "Yeah, maybe."

I walked out the door quickly, not really bothering to say goodbye. I was going to go home and talk to Wendy. I needed to. But I really needed to go somewhere else first.

I pulled up to the cemetery and got out of the car slowly, my heart pounding. I hadn't visited Kyle's grave enough since he'd died. As I sat in front of the headstone, I nearly immediately burst into sobs. I pushed my tears down.

"Hey, Ky," I said, and my vice cracked. "Sorry I haven't visited much. Seeing the headstone is just so hard, you know? It feels more real here."

I sighed and started picking at my fingernails. It didn't really feel like he was here, or like he could hear me. I felt kind of stupid, talking to a slab of rock. But it was the closest I could ever really get to talk to my best friend again.

"I never really got the chance to apologize to you. So, I'm sorry, Ky. I'm sorry. I know this is kind of my fault. I fucked up, I know. You needed me, and I'm so sorry I didn't come through. I don't know how I could've been so stupid."

I read and reread the headstone. It always felt strange to see his name there. It felt wrong. It felt like his name shouldn't be written on a headstone. Not yet. But here it was, proving to me that it wasn't all just some fucked up dream.

"You know, Kyle, I keep trying to blame Wendy. Or you, because you left. It's easier to blame someone than to just face this. I miss you, man. I hate that you're not here anymore. I never really realized how much I needed you."

Tears started streaming down my face. I put my hand over my mouth and started to sob into it.

"I need you, Ky. And you're not here."