God…I feel like a creep. I'm just going through all the stories and comparing how many reviews they've gotten in comparison to how long the story's been out and how many chapters there are.

There's a direct correlation to the number of reviews and how many chapters there are. So, the more chapters put out more often…leads to more reviews…I'll put out a formula sometime over the weekend…

And, I forgot a disclaimer at the beginning: (didn't forget, they just piss me off… duh we know the characters don't belong to you)

But, they don't. They're not mine. And, anyone I pick on in these stories…it's all in good humor. I'm not trying to offend. :)

BROVFLOVSKI

This was it! I had it!

My hand couldn't stop moving across the paper excitedly. I needed to run some tests with extracts of elements, but I think I could get a hold of what I needed from Mephisto… he wasn't a physicist, but he was probably the most qualified scientist in the town.

I reached into y backpack and found my cell phone. I scrolled down my contacts and texted Stan. "Dude, I think I've figured it out…I just need some help from a scientist," I wrote. I wanted to keep him informed.

He texted back pretty quickly. "My dad's a scientist…"

I actually laughed at the suggestion. "Dude, your dad's a geologist… I don't know if it's the same thing. I just need samples of Uranium and Plutonium."

I returned to my blueprints, sketching and biting my lip. I needed to stop that…it was a bad habit…

The phone next to my leg lit up and Stan's number showed under the little picture of a mailbox receiving a flying letter. I picked up the phone. "Yeah…he could get you that. I just checked…"

I stared at my phone. "Srsly?" I typed eagerly.

"Yeah, sure…"

"Thx, dude!" I sunk back into my chair, exhausted. Stan was a fucking life-saver.

"No prob. Is that all you've been doing all night? We've got that history presentation tomorrow, remember? Are you done?"

"Duh, I did that last week. It's gonna be epic."

"Ah, fuck you man… I completely forgot. I'm going to be up all night…"

I laughed. "What was yours about? Medieval torture, rght"

"Yeah. I still have to put together a speech…I'm so fucking tired…"

I glanced at the clock. It was almost ten. I was supposed to be grounded for starting a racial war. But, right now, Stan was going to need help. I stood up and tucked my pillows under the bed sheets to look somewhat like there was a person under there. I put a basketball to be my head and put my hat on top, pulling the covers up over it.

I glanced over at my desk, thinking. I stuffed the blueprints to my reactor in my coat pocket. I couldn't just leave that sort of thing sitting around…

I shut off the lights, closing the door to my bedroom and climbing out the window. I shut it behind myself and climbed down the gutter. It wasn't the first time I'd snuck out. It just got easier and easier with time. I swung my body weight to the side at the last foot of metal piping and let go. My feet hit the ground gracefully.

I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I walked over to Stan's. I was there after about ten minutes. I didn't bother trying to sneak into his room again. There was no need considering I'd saved his life. When Randy opened the door, half-awake. He just let me inside.

It wouldn't have even come up if Mrs. Sharon hadn't walked in from the kitchen and demanded to know why I wasn't at home if I was grounded.

"I saved your son's life. I saved you from having to kill him. I think we can let it slide…please?" I said.

"Alright, I won't call your mother…this time," she said sternly.

I just thanked her and ran upstairs.

Stan's door was closed, but I just let myself I like I always did. Stan was passed out over his laptop, the screen made his calm face glow ethereally so he looked like a ghost. His mouth was hanging open slightly…

I flicked the bedroom lights on and his head snapped up.

He looked around the room in confusion for a minute, but his eyes settled on me and he smiled calmly. "Kyle? What're you doing here?"

"Keeping you awake…apparently," I replied. "You've got to finish that speech…"

He smiled warmly. "You seriously snuck out of your house at eleven o'clock to help me with homework?"

I shrugged. "What else was I supposed to do…sleep?" I laughed.

He just rolled his eyes, still smiling. He spun his chair around to see how much he'd written. "I've only got two minutes done…" he muttered.

"Well, it's only a three-minute speech, so you're almost there…" I said encouragingly.

He nodded and scrolled down on his document. "Do you wanna hear it?"

"Sure."

He put his laptop on his legs and spun around to face me. He began reciting what he'd written, and I listened for as long as I could. But eventually, I just zoned off, listening to the deep drone of his voice and watching his lips moving with his words.

"So…? Good so far, right?" he said, looking at me expectantly.

My brain snapped back to reality. "Yeah…sounds good. What were you planning on putting next?"

He shrugged. "I was going to move on to the Chinese next. I already covered a lot of European torture…"

"Cool," I said, smoothing out his comforter and sitting on his bed. "You should include the Tean Zu. That thing that crushed people's fingers…" I suggested.

He stared at me for a minute. "Why do you know this stuff, Kyle?" he said quirking a dark eyebrow in suspicion.

I shrugged. "I listen in class…"

"We aren't learning about Chinese torture…"

"Well, yeah, but Mr. Garrison always mumbles about different tortures he'd like to use on us, I learn a lot from that alone."

He spun around in his chair and looked at me, we busted out laughing. We worked for an hour before he was struggling to keep his eyes open again.

"Do you want me to make us some coffee?" I suggested. I'd never really liked the taste of coffee very much, but I liked the way it made your stomach feel warm and it woke you up pretty quickly. He'd started drinking it when we got to high school and had to start pulling all-nighters.

He pushed himself back in the chair and turned to look at me. He sighed, "I think my dad has some already made. I'll just text him to bring some up." He picked his phone up and opened it, sending a text to his father.

I leaned back, lying out on his bed. I didn't question why his parents were still up at this hour. They probably had work or somthing. "Cool…" I muttered, rolling over onto my stomach and setting my chin on my folded hands. His sheets smelled like his house. It was a clean, nostalgic smell…

I looked up at him. He had bags under his sweet blue eyes. I guess we were both pretty exhausted. But, this was an exhausting town…

"Hey…Kyle?" he said curiously. I just smiled to show I was listening. "Why do you want to stay single?" he said cautiously. He knew this was a delicate question for me. I grew tired of answering it.

"You already know that, Stan," I said, turning my head and relaxing into his mattress.

"I know you think it's superficial…but, why? What if the couple really loves each other?" he said. There was a strange hopeful tone in his voice. What could he hope for out of love?

"Sorry to sound depressing or pessimistic or something," I began sarcastically, "But, I don't think people our age can really understand what's going on in their heads. Right now, we're just experimenting with life. Nothing is really serious in high school except grades and health. And, that lack of seriousness is why I don't date. When people date, they're just experimenting. I'm sorry if I don't want to be a test subject…"

He frowned, staring down at the floor. "So…what? Do you expect your soul mate to just fall down at you out of the sky?" he demanded.

"Well…knowing this town…" I muttered too low for him to hear.

"Are you trying to say that since we're young, we don't know what we want?" he demanded hotly. His face was flushed and he seemed angry.

I was taken aback. Why was he being so passionate about this? Usually he would just let me be and respect my opinions. Maybe I'd insulted his relationship with Wendy or something, that's usually what it was about when he got like this.

"Look, dude, I'm not trying to say that you're naive. I'm just saying that you can't know what's going on in other people's heads. And, sometimes, you can't even trust your own impressions. You might love a person for months and months, then decide that there's something about them you just can't stand anymore."

He was staring at me, frowning. I tried to ignore his gaze and just gather my thoughts. Usually it was so easy to put them into intelligent-sounding sentences. Why did I feel like I was stumbling over myself today?

"What I'm saying is that people are fickle. I want love to be something sacred to me. I want it to be special. If I date just anyone, I feel like I'd be cheating them. I want there to be a mutual feeling between both of us. Call me an idealist, but I want to take my time with people and get a good feel of who they are and if I can trust them. I don't want to fall too hard for someone just to have them change their mind and break me," I concluded.

I hated pouring out my heart like this, but it was just Stan.

"Is this because of the way I react when Wendy breaks up with me?" he said, anger slowly being replaced by concern. "Because, I can pull myself together if that's why you're afraid to get out there…"

Is that what he thought this was about? Why couldn't i just form the words to convince him that there wasn't a deep reason? I didn't want him to stop coming to me for comfort… I felt most important when he needed me to pick up the pieces…

"I'm not afraid to get out there, I just don't want to, okay! And, that's not the reason at all!"

There was a knock at his door suddenly. We both jumped. Our conversation had been so engrossing; I'd almost forgotten that we weren't alone in the world.

Stan stood, pushing his chair away behind him. He opened the door. His dad was standing there, looking in the room suspiciously. "What're you boys doing?" he said, trying to sound calm.

"Studying, dad," Stan muttered, putting both cups in one hand and closing his door. His dad followed the door until it shut, keeping an eye on me until it closed completely.

"You're dad's cool…" I said sarcastically.

"He's just paranoid since I got back," Stan excused him calmly. He held out a mug of coffee to me. I sat up and took it, sipping on it gingerly. It was hot. "Are you staying over tonight?"

"Can't. I'm supposed to be grounded. I've gotta be there when my mom checks on me in the morning. So…let's finish this," I said, scooting to the edge of the bed and looking at the laptop intently.

We worked for another hour until we'd finished. We always moved slowly when working together. We sometimes disagreed on what to write or got distracted and completely off-task. But, I'd found that, working together, the final product was usually better.

His head fell onto his desk when we'd finished. "Just let me die…." he said, exhausted.

I laughed and lifted him from under his arms. He groaned, but he allowed me to move him to his bed and remove his shoes. "There. Just sleep. Tomorrow, you've gotta kiss Wendy," I said, flicking off his light. "Or I will be seriously pissed."

He groaned and pulled the blankets over himself, not bothering to get into pajamas.

I closed his door and left. I walked back outside into the snow and back to my house. It was extremely dark at one in the morning. There weren't street lights in our neighborhood. The only light was coming from the town about a mile away and reflecting off the mountains so it lit up the clouds overhead.

It was peaceful outside. I wish sometimes that this town would embrace the night life. Colorado nights were plesant. It was a brisk sort of cold, and the sun didn't glare into your eyes.

I climbed back up into my window, careful not to leave footprints in the yard, knowing it would give me away. I swept them up with my jacket behind myself. I was as silent as possible, knowing my parents were sometimes awake at this hour…doing things I didn't want to think about.

I opened my window and pulled myself into my dark bedroom, throwing one leg over the windowsill, then the other. I walked over to my dresser to put on my pajamas. I opened a drawer-

There was a sudden and very sharp pain in the side of my neck and I fell to my knees. The room was spinning… My hand felt thick…maybe it was melting…but, somehow I got it to my neck and felt my skin. It was hot and wet…

A dart? I slumped over onto the floor.

I think Kyle is much more aware of his feelings than Stan is, once he feels them. But, I'm not sure how he'd react to finding he likes his best friend. Since I'm probably most like Kyle out of all the characters, I've been basing him off myself.

I think if he liked Stan, he would probably deny it to himself first, and probably not believe it, but once he comes to terms with it, I don't think it would change him. I don't think he'd run, crying to Stan about how he's in love with him and hopes they can still be friends or some gay shit like that, I think he would just be normal and try observing Stan's actions more.

There, I ranted. I'm sorry.

Next chapter will obviously start a new adventure

I eat reviews! Feed me plz!