The following week played out as well as it could go.

Stan continued to see Kyle at school every day, much to his satisfaction.

This was something he did not tell his parents out of fear they would remove him from school just to keep them separated. It was tough to not be permitted to spend time with him outside of school, but at least they were still able to see each other at all. Just the fact Stan could see Kyle alive and well every day made everything a little easier to handle.

But that didn't go to say that Stan was feeling great. He was more nervous than ever these days, every little thing seemed to make him anxious.

He jumped when someone slammed a locker shut beside him, and then settled down.

It was Friday morning, and he was doing what he had been doing every single morning this week. Stan was at Kyle's locker anxiously awaiting his arrival. And also just like every other morning this week, Stan's nerves didn't settle until he saw his super best friend walk in on his crutches.

"Hey, Stan," Kyle said as he moved to open his locker.

"Good morning, Kyle," Stan greeted, embracing him in a large hug.

Kyle went rigid in Stan's arms, like he was freezing solid.

Stan frowned at that. One thing he noticed in the past few days was how sensitive Kyle was to touch. It seemed as though ever since he got the bruises on his face, he shied away from any sort of physical contact, especially when it came from Stan.
For instance, there were times that Kenny would throw an arm around Kyle or play with his hair, and Kyle didn't particularly seem to mind that.
But if Stan ever grabbed his arm or touched his face, Kyle would tense up and go lax in Stan's hold. It's like he would turn into a ragdoll and just wait for Stan to be done touching him.

It was odd, and frankly, very concerning. What was even more concerning about it was that this was another one of the few subjects Kyle wouldn't talk about. Stan asked him about it constantly, almost as insistently as he asked about Kyle's punishment, but under both circumstances Kyle would just shrug and say, "Don't worry about it."

It made Stan worry when he felt Kyle tense in his arms, so he pulled back and pretended it didn't happen.

"So Kyle, today's your last day on crutches, right?"
"Yeah," Kyle said. He relaxed a bit when he was let go, and he smiled when he said, "I get my cast in a boot right after school today."

"That's nice. Those crutches must suck, right?"

"I'm so ready to get rid of these things. They're making my armpits hurt like a bitch."

"It'll be nice to see you walking again," Stan said, helping Kyle with his books, "Maybe you and I can start playing basketball together again. But I'm sure your foot still hurts. Do you think you're ready for the boot?"

"More or less," Kyle yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"Did you sleep last night?" Stan asked, though he already knew the answer.

"For a solid thirty seconds, yeah, but that's about it."

Another thing Stan noticed was how tired Kyle was this week. He was always yawning, he stared off into nothingness often, and he constantly asked people to repeat what they said.
It didn't occur to Stan until later that this was probably because Kyle wasn't sleeping. He didn't have his illegal sleeping pills anymore; they were probably thrown out by room service back at the Laramie hotel.

So while it was heartbreaking to see Kyle struggle, Stan didn't really let it bother him. He thought it was for the better that Kyle was breaking away from the sleeping drugs. It was probably going to be a long journey, but at least Kyle wouldn't have to rely on his brother's smuggling to keep him well anymore.

"I'm sorry, Kyle. Your sleeping patterns will heal eventually," Stan assured.

"I'm just glad I'm able to stay awake for class," Kyle lamented as he yawned again, handing off his school books to Stan, "I don't know how I'm gonna stay awake for Bebe's party tonight."

Stan dropped the books.

One of them landed on Kyle's broken ankle.

"Ow!" Kyle exclaimed, "Dude! What the hell?!"

Stan scrambled to pick up Kyle's books, "Oh shit, I am so sorry. You okay? I just- You caught me by surprise."

Once Stan had reassembled the books, he recovered and laughed nervously, "Sorry! For a second I thought you said you were going to Bebe's party."

"I am."

Something nasty stirred in Stan's gut, "Um. No, I don't think you are."

Kyle stalled for a moment, clutching his crutches in defense before he asked, "What's the problem? Why can't I go?"

"It's not gonna be a safe party, Kyle," Stan said cautiously, "I know because I've been to her parties before, and I've heard the way people are talking about this one."

"I've heard people talk, too. There aren't going to be any drugs or pills."

"No, but there'll be drinks," Stan warned, "Lots and lots of drinks. And loud music. And people. Lots of people. And gross dancing."

"But you're going," Kyle pointed out.

"Only because I owe Nichole a dance 'cause of the soup thing."

"'Only?'" Kyle raised an eyebrow.

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets when he admitted, "And maybe for a few drinks. So what? But Kyle, I've been to these kinds of parties before. You haven't."

"Exactly why I should go," Kyle braced himself with his crutches before risking to question further, "Why are you acting like this, Stan? Wouldn't it be fun to go to a party with your super best friend?"

"No," Stan said a little too sharply.

Kyle winced.

Stan softened, "Oh, Kyle. I didn't mean it like that. I just- You don't want to go, not really, do you? I mean, you'll barely be two hours in wearing a boot for God's sake. And there'll be so many people there, and it'll be loud, and none of the music is really any good, and-"

"-Okay, now you're just making stuff up," Kyle butt in. He was still visibly a little shaken from Stan's harshness moments before, but he was starting to retaliate, "Yes, I do want to go. Why is it you don't want me to?"

"You'd be at risk, Kyle!" Stan shouted.

A few people walking down the hallway glanced their way, some interested, others worried. But Stan didn't pay them any attention. The only thing he could notice was the way Kyle tensed up when Stan raised his voice.
"You are not nearly healthy enough to go."

"I know what I'm doing-"

"-No you don't! You've never been to a party like this before, you were deathly sick only days ago, and your foot isn't even healed, Kyle! I mean it, if something happened to you, I would-"

"-Stan," Kyle said tightly, "Nothing's gonna 'happen to me.' It's only a party. I was invited. I want to go."

"Come on, Kyle, seriously. What if something happens to you?"

"I can defend myself. You've seen me stand up to people before. I'm not helpless!"

"Oh, I beg to differ."

Stan winced as soon as the words left his mouth, and so did Kyle.

"Sorry," Stan cringed into himself, "A little too soon, eh?"

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek, "Yeah. Too soon."

"Sorry," Stan repeated.

"Stan, just so you know, as soon as I'm feeling better, you can bet your ass I'll be able to defend myself. You know I can. Everyone here knows I can."

"Yes, everyone here. But people we don't know are going to be there," Stan pressed, "You know how everyone's been saying this party is going to be huge? That's because Bebe's inviting seniors from, like, two or three other schools. We won't even know half the people there, how are we going to trust them?"

"That's the exact reason why I want to go, Stan."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Kyle weakened at Stan's intensity again, "Listen, Stan, you heard me. That's the reason why I want to go. Can I explain?"

"Yes. Do. Explain."

Kyle bit his lip before admitting, "This is gonna sound dumb."

"Literally everything you've said within the past five minutes sounds dumb, Kyle. What is the matter with you?"

Kyle took offense at that, and Stan could see it. He went red in the face. Stan expected him to fire angrily, returning back to his no-nonsense firebrand self. But Kyle just folded in on himself defeatedly.

"Never mind," he muttered softly.

Stan's heart panged, "Kyle..."

"No, it's okay. Don't worry about it, it doesn't matter. I won't go."

Stan was stern now, "Kyle."

"Stan, it's okay. Don't worry about it, I'll-"

-Stan raised his hand to grab him, but Kyle flinched and backed away.

"Don't touch me, Stan! I'm sick of it!" he cried. He was trembling from head to toe, appearing very much like he was about to collapse, but he went on anyway, "I just- I don't know… I want to meet somebody! You said yourself people have had crushes on me before, and I know this sounds so fucking stupid and so fucking, fucking immature, but I've always wanted that, Stan! You know I've always wanted that! I just want to meet somebody… I don't know. Maybe fall in love?"

Stan felt his heart break, "Kyle…"

The other students in the corridor were now watching them with extreme concentration. Stan recognized most of his football team watching him in concern, some of their mouths hanging open. A few girls were staring at Kyle in sympathy, their hands over their hearts. Some kids were even whispering to each other. Every single one of them had their eyes glued to the scene.

"I'm sorry, I should have known it was too much to ask you to permit me," Kyle spat a little vehemently, though still quaking in fear.

"What's going on over here?" Kenny shouted as he shoved his way through the hallway, clad in his trademark orange parka. He carried a strong defensive demeanour as he moved to stand in between them.

Stan just rolled his eyes.

Ever since the lunch conversation on Monday, Stan and Kenny were avoiding each other like the plague for reasons unspoken.
After Kenny refused to tell Stan his theory about who left the bruises on Kyle's face and neck, they were both in a tense state of avoidance. Kenny was treating Stan like he was a cancer; he was ignoring him, he was trying to space Kyle from him, and he still never told Stan who he thought hurt Kyle in the first place.
It was as if Kenny and Stan's friendship was switched off like a lightswitch. One minute Kenny liked him, the next minute he was out to get him at every chance he could take.

All of this he did without Stan knowing the reason why.

"Fuck off, Ken," Stan said, "Leave us alone, we're just talking."

"Um, no," Kenny stared at him like he was an idiot, "You guys are screaming at each other in the school hallway and the Kylie-B's upset. I'm not gonna 'fuck off.'"

"You're such a fucking instagator, Kenny. We were only talking!"

"You were talking loudly. And you've got him all shaken up."

"Don't talk about Kyle like he's not right there behind you! He's a human being!"

"Then start treating him like one!"

He didn't even give Stan the chance to retaliate. Kenny was already turning around on his heels to comfort Kyle, engulfing him in questions of concern and touching his hair in that comforting way that Stan hates.

He figured Kenny only threw in that last detail to piss him off. He wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

Stan took the time to look around the hallway, where he could clearly see his several classmates still watching them. They were trying to disguise their stares, but their 'secret' glances were still obvious to see. Stan could even tell they were gossiping.

"Hey Kylie-B, what's up? You okay, sweet thing?" Kenny asked softly, "Did something bad happen? I just got here and I saw you two going off."

Stan watched Kyle's jaw clench. He was still vibrating like a machine, noticeably upset with his entire being. But whatever turmoil he was stuck in, he shoved it aside.

"No, Kenny, it's fine," Kyle explained, "We're all good. Stan's right, we were only talking."

"But you two were shouting. You never shout at each other," Kenny reminded, playing with Kyle's red hair.

"We're only disagreeing. It's fine. Everybody does it."

"But Kylie-B, that wasn't right… He looked like he was about to hit you, or grab you, or something. Are you doing okay? Do you need help?"

"Just tired. I haven't been sleeping."

"I know, I know. But what were you talking about? Why is Stan so upset?"

"We were only talking about Bebe's party tonight…" Kyle dropped off his sentence there, casting an uneasy glance to Stan, as if silently asking for him to pick up conversation.

"Kyle thinks he should go," Stan explained carefully.

"Why shouldn't he?" Kenny shrugged, "It's gonna be fun. There'll be people from different schools there. We never see anybody new in this town. It'll be good to see some new faces."

"But Kyle's still not…" he tried to word it in a way that wouldn't be downright offensive, "...in the best physical state."

"I could look out for him, it'd be fine," Kenny offered.

"Wait, you're going too, Kenny?"

"Yeah, everyone's going. That's why it'd be a shame to not see the Kylie-B there."

"So you're siding with him now?"

Kenny snorted, "Against you? Any time."

Both Stan and Kyle paled at that line. It carried indisputable weight to it, a heaviness that Stan could barely take. The words weighed him down from the inside, making him feel ashamed and angered all at once.

"Let's not talk about this now," Kyle said, shoving his remaining books into the locker.

Kenny stuck up a finger, "No no no no no no, you deserve a conclusion, my friend."

Stan cut in now, "Kenny, he's upset, let's just-"

"-It's not my fault he's upset," he pointed out, "Now let's just get a final answer here before Ike or Cartman or somebody shows up and causes even more trouble."

There was an undeniable agreement at that statement; it went unsaid, but they all agreed.

"I'm going to the party," Kyle said firmly. His voice was steady, but his body was still shaking. He was a paradox of himself, both afraid and brave.

"No."

"Stan-"

"-No, Kyle. I'm serious. You're not going."

Kenny cut in, "Stan, you're not the boss of him. This is America, you know."

"America is a joke. And I'm not the boss of him, but I'm his fucking super best friend, and super best friends don't let their super best friends go to parties where they could get hurt."

"But Stan," Kyle urged, "It'll give me a chance to get out of the house."

"Yeah, man," Kenny agreed, toying with the tufts of red curls, "And I'll be going, too. The Kylie-B will be just fine. We're not gonna let anything happen, we're gonna make sure he has a good time."

Stan couldn't bring himself to utter a rebuttal.

As much as he hated to admit it, they were both right. He didn't even want to go to the party in the first place, he just wanted to give Nichole what she wanted, steal a few drinks, and then hit the road. But now he was going to have to attend the whole thing for Kyle's sake, to watch over him and ensure he was safe.

It wouldn't really be a change in anything Stan's been doing for the past few days (and arguably the past several years): he would only be setting himself out for Kyle's protection.

The only change here was a change in environment. Instead of worrying about abusive parents, kingpin genius brothers, and almost terminal illnesses, he was going to worry about humping teenagers, rum and coke, and blasting music. Parties were landscapes Stan knew well (a fact he was neither proud nor ashamed to admit), so he actually was not in the unknown this time. He was going to protect Kyle in a place he knew, with subject matter he knew, and problems he knew.

Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

So all Stan could say was:

"Stop touching his hair."

Just to piss him off further, Kenny ruffled Kyle's hair again before taking his hands away. He patted Kyle's shoulder and said, "'kay, Kylie-B. Do you want to go shopping for clothes before the party with me?"

"I would, but I'm putting my cast in a boot right after school today. I'll just have to wear something I already have."

"I gotchu," Kenny's blue eyes lingered on him for a while, "Let me know if you need anything, 'kay?"
Kenny looked Stan up and down before adding, "Anything at all."

"Alright," Kyle said a little hesitantly.

Though it was clear from the look in his face that he didn't want to leave, Kenny left anyway, disappearing among the gossiping crowd with his head low.

Kyle watched him walk off with a look in his eyes that Stan didn't understand; it almost looked like Kyle wanted to follow him.

"Come on," Stan said, intervening, "I'll walk you to class."

Stan's parents didn't need a lot of convincing to let him go to the party. He guessed they were just happy he was getting out, and that he wasn't going to Kyle's house.

He wasn't even going to Kyle's house to pick him up beforehand. Kyle was taking himself from his doctor's office, so there was no real way Stan could see him before the party started.

Bebe was hosting the party at the local hotel. At first, it sounded weird. But the more Stan thought about it, the better it sounded.

There was a massive courtyard outside the hotel, one that could probably hold a thousand people. When cleared out, it was probably the largest and finest space to dance in town. There was an indoor pool, too, where definite party magic could happen. Not to mention, there were several private rooms for intimacy.

Best part of all, Bebe's parents owned the hotel. And they trusted their daughter with their whole heart. So that meant Bebe was the closest thing to adult supervision there; and she was barely seventeen.

The hotel never had any residents (because no one would ever want to visit a town like this). But tonight, it was packed tight before the party even started.

Stan had volunteered to be one of the people to help set everything up. He borrowed somebody's van and spent about an hour unloading Bebe's party supplies at the hotel. He wasn't one for decoration, he left that to the girls. So Stan spent his pre-party hours locking and unlocking zip-ties from the back of a van, loading and unloading the tables, speakers, and drinks.

By the time everything was set up, other guests started arriving. Stan was just finishing with locking up the van in the parking lot, when an old red truck he recognized pulled up into the spot beside him.

Kenny McCormick popped out of the driver's seat, dressed in nice party attire. His blonde hair was even slicked back and out of the way.

"Oh. Hi, Stan," he said flatly.

"Hello, Kenny," Stan said back; he didn't know what else to say.

They stood there like that for a solid two minutes, Stan with the trunk of zip-ties still open, Kenny with an awkward posture, both of them wordless in the dark of the night. There were times Stan was sure that Kenny was about to say something, but silence between them remained. The only sounds that came at all were from the hotel, where the music was finally starting to play. Even out here in the parking lot, the deep throb of the bass could be heard.

After a little too long of standing in silence, Kenny made a move to go to the hotel.

"Wait!" Stan called.

Kenny paused, his hands in his pockets, "What?"

"... I don't know."

Kenny turned around again.

"Wait! I feel like you're avoiding me," Stan called again, "And it's really pissing me off!"

Kenny stopped. He looked Stan from top to bottom, as if investigating him, before he said, "I kinda am, yeah."

"Why?"

"I'm sure if you think real hard, you can figure it out, dude."

Stan just huffed. Maybe this wasn't the right time or place to bring up their estranged friendship, it was a party after all. Parties are for breaking relationships, not mending them.

But Kenny must have had other plans, because he didn't go back inside the hotel. He stood there, making an effort to connect.

"Whatcha doing?" Kenny asked, though it was easy to tell that he didn't really care.

"Nothing," Stan sighed, "I just borrowed somebody's van to unload all this stuff. Now it's just a trunk full of zip-ties."

"Oh. I got you," Kenny pretended to look at the stars above them, "Is Kyle here yet?"

"I haven't seen him," Stan answered, feeling his throat twitch.

"It's okay, I'm sure he'll show."

"And you're sure it's okay if he comes? I mean, I've seen the kinds of parties Bebe throws…"

"So have I. And yeah, actually," Kenny took out an e-cigarette from his pocket, "Kyle's real uptight, has been for years, and probably always will be. It might be fun to see him loosen up. Probably good for him, too."

Stan watched as Kenny released a long blow of smoke, the light from overhead lamp-posts making the smoke clouds look opaque.
"Plus, Stan. You gotta recognize that the Kylie-B is the one who wants to come. No one's forcing him. He wants to come."

Kenny's words rung in Stan's ears. He bit his lip and turned away so that he wouldn't have to breathe the smoke in, "Yeah, I know."

Stan waited for Kenny to start badgering him about what happened in the hallway earlier, but instead, Kenny just asked:
"So how's therapy going?"

Stan tilted his head, "What?"

"'member lunch on Monday? You said you'd go to therapy if Kyle stopped hiding from you," Kenny scrutinized him further, "You are going to therapy, aren't you?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"I'm… not going to therapy right at the moment."

Stan wouldn't admit it just yet, but therapy was inaccessible.
It wasn't his fault at all, though. The psychiatrist office he used to go shut down after it ran out of funding. So the entire staff was laid off and Stan couldn't get his old therapist back.

Stan had not told Kyle this, mostly because he didn't want to worry him. So over the course of this week, he just lied low and pretended everything was okay.

Though it was worth noting that Stan planned on going to the school counselor if things got out of hand with his mental health. (Stan didn't like the school counselor, hardly anyone did, but at least the school counselor was present.) He didn't need the school counselor just yet, though.

"Why?" Kenny demanded, bewildered.

"Kyle hasn't kept up his end of the bargain, so I don't need to do mine yet."

"What are you talking about? Kyle's been with you every single minute of school. I know this because I've tried to separate you, like, thirty times, man! What do you mean he's not keeping up his end of the bargain?"

"He's still hiding from me," Stan said, his heart sinking in his chest, "He still keeps things from me. He's not answering all of my questions. And I'm just so worried about him, you know, I have so many questions…"

Kenny turned off his e-cigarette and shoved it back in his pocket, "He has opened up, though. I saw it just this morning in the corridor. He told you what was on his mind. He told you what he wanted to do instead of just waiting for you to make the decision for him. That's called progress, Stan."

"Hey, by the way, why were you so pissed off at me this morning? It wasn't even eight o'clock and you were yelling at me, after avoiding me for almost a week straight," Stan said, "Oh, and now you admit that you've intentionally tried to separate me and Kyle more than once. Why've you been such a dick? What did I do to you?"

Even in the shadowy lighting of the parking lot, Stan could see that he hit a soft spot with Kenny. His blue eyes were wide and vulnerable, his lips slightly parted.

"You didn't do anything to me, Stan," he said, "Not to me."

Kenny's senility made Stan's gut wrench. He knew something was wrong just by the way he stood there unguarded.

"Look, dude," Kenny said, visibly susceptible, "I'm not gonna apologize for tryna separate you and the Kylie-B. I can apologize for making our friendship awkward, sure, I can accept that. But I'm not gonna apologize for my actions."

Stan didn't say anything, so Kenny spoke on:
"I was pissed this morning 'cause you and him were at each other's throats. Sort of. Like, you were both yelling at each other-which, by the way, I've never seen in my seventeen years of knowing you guys- but it was clear you had the upper hand. And then when you moved to touch him-..."

Stan's heart skipped a beat, "What?"

"It's nothing."

"No, what."

"Stan, you don't want to know."

"What."

Kenny sighed, rolling his head back on his neck, "I don't know. When you moved to touch him, I felt like everything became clear for me. It was already clear when I saw the bruises on his neck at the lunch table, but then it was just… clearer, y'know? Like, I don't even know if you were just gonna hug him or something sweet like that, but you scared the living shit out of him. I saw the look in his eyes, man, and…"
Kenny swallowed, "And it scared me, too."

"..."

"I'm not scared of you, Stan," Kenny said, struggling to remain composed, "You're my pal, you're my buddy, you're my chum. 'kay? I'm not scared of you. I think I'm just-... I think you should really think about therapy. 'kay?"

Stan clenched his fists, "You guys talk about me like I'm criminally insane. You, my dad, my mom. You talk about me like I'm a lost cause."

"Nah, man," Kenny shook his head, "I want you to go to therapy because you're not a lost cause. There's still so much out there for you, dude. I care about you, and I want you to get better."

Stan just clenched and unclenched his fists.

"What if I talk to the Kylie-B?" Kenny offered, "I can talk to him and get him to open up to you more. Then would you go?"

"Of course. I told him I would."

"A'ight, bet. That's our plan, then," Kenny stuck out his hand.

Stan shook it, "Are you gonna stop avoiding me now?"

"Probably. I think I wanna keep a closer eye on the two of you anyway," Kenny kicked a pebble across the parking lot, "I'm still mad at you, though."

"I have plenty of reasons to be mad at you, too, Kenny," Stan pointed out.

Kenny just wrinkled his nose at that, "I can't think of a good reason why, but sure, whatever, man. Want to hit this party already?"

"I wanted to walk in with Kyle."

"Of course you did," there was a pause before Kenny said, "I can tell you're tense. If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure Ike isn't coming to this party. I think he thinks parties are beneath him, or whatever."

"Oh, the Lord is good. Thank you, Lord!"

Kenny laughed, "Hey, what is it with you and Ike? Like the two of you were pretty okay with each other our entire lives. Now all of a sudden you just started-"

"-hating him? Yeah, I think I hate him," Stan said nonchalantly, "Remember our conversation back at my house, when we learned about how Ike got those sleep pills? I think I started hating him that very second."

"Wow," Kenny blinked, "That was only a few days ago. Feels like a few years."

"Yeah. You're telling me. It's hard to remember everything that's happened so far."

"Right? I should be keepin' a diary or something."

"So do you hate me?"

"S'cuse me?" Kenny raised his head.

"I don't know, we were talking about hating people," Stan tried to avoid eye contact, "I was wondering if you hated me."

"Nah," Kenny shrugged like it was nothing, "Don't think I could hate you if I wanted to. I'm really mad at you, yeah. But I know a lot of this ain't your fault. So I feel kinda bad for you, too. But no, I don't hate you. I just don't really trust you right now."

That was an interesting choice of words. Stan could essentially say the same thing. After the manipulative phone call Kenny and Ike gave to Kyle when they were back in Laramie, on top of Kenny siding with Ike over this whole ordeal, not to mention locking him in a closet, it was equally difficult to trust Kenny. Because of his lack of pre-planning and his ostentatious personality, Kenny was and always had been an enigma. But now under the circumstances of everything they had been through so far, Stan could now see that Kenny was even more variegated.

It wasn't easy to trust him, either.

"What about me?"

Stan raised his head, "Hm?"

"Do you hate me?" Kenny asked calmly, "You said you had plenty of reasons to be mad at me. Do you hate me?"

Stan thought for a moment before replying, "I don't think so. You're- um, We-... No. I don't think I hate you. I'm just trying to… process... I don't hate you."

Kenny just nodded, "Cool beans."

"I do hate that thing you do with Kyle's hair, though."

Kenny genuinely laughed, "What? Why?"

"I don't really know. It just sort of irks me in ways I don't like," Stan shrugged, "Plus, I've noticed Kyle doesn't really like being touched these days, and then you go in there and touch his hair, and-"

-Kenny gasped, "Oh, really? Shitfuck. I never meant to make him uncomfy. I'm sure he's going through a lot these days. Poor Kylie-B. I wish he had told me that. I would've stopped if I knew it was bothering 'im."

"See? He still has a lot more opening up to do. He's still hiding."

"I'll talk to him about that," Kenny vowed, "But you are going to go to therapy. Okay?"

"Only if Kyle agrees to stop hiding," Stan murmured, "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink."

Kenny's blue eyes were sharp like razor blades, "Was that metaphor directed at you or him?"

"What metaphor?"

"There you guys are! I was looking all over for you!"

Both Kenny and Stan simultaneously turned around to see their favorite redhead approaching.

Kyle was dressed in black party clothes, his Jersey golden chains loose around his exposed neck. His clothes were loose, but still highlighted his slender frame well. It was something so outside of what he normally wore, but his outfit still suited him incredibly well.

"Hot damn!" Kenny cried, "Fucking Kylie-B from the Jersey Shore is back!"

Kyle laughed, "Hi, Kenny."

"Dude," Kenny extolled, "You look fire. Deadass. You are gonna get some girls tonight!"

"That's the idea, yeah," Kyle flushed and turned to the other, "Hi, Stan."

Stan cut right to the chase, "How's the boot?"

"I'm getting used to it!" Kyle cheered. He held up his foot to prove it, before forcing it back down on the pavement, "It's really, really heavy. And it still hurts a lot. But it's so much better than crutches."

"That's good," Stan smiled, "I'm glad to see you walking again."

Kyle smiled back, "Thanks. And thanks for changing your mind, dude."

"Changing my mind?"

Kyle faltered, "About letting me come to the party?"

"Oh," Stan's breath caught in his throat, "Yeah. Right. I did. Of course, you're welcome. I helped set the party up so, like, I sort of checked and made sure it was all good. It- It's pretty safe. I think."

"Good. Thank you. I know I'm not one hundred percent healthy, so I'll take it easy tonight. Okay?"

He couldn't help but get the impression that Kyle was just saying that for Stan's sake. Even though this was the case, his words still stung. They made Stan regret his decision already; his gut was writhing and clenching so violently he thought he might be sick. He knew that Kyle wasn't well, but here he was, leading the lamb to the slaughter.

Kyle was smart, but he wasn't being smart about taking care of himself. He deliberately chose to put himself in a risky environment when he had several underlying health conditions, and he endangered himself even more by arriving in that immodest outfit. His clothing was borderline racy, and it made him look… desirable.

"Kyle, put a coat on."

Both Kenny and Kyle staggered.

"Stan, it's fine," Kyle said, "After we go inside, it'll probably be a lot warmer, and I don't want to-"

"-No. Put a coat on."

"I don't want to have to worry about toting around a coat at a party, it-"

"-I'm serious. You're going to wear a coat over that."

"But I like the cold, I-"

"-No. Put on a fucking coat, Kyle. Right now."

Kyle blanched until he was as pale as the moon.
"I didn't bring my coat…" he said in a mouselike voice, his head ducking down.

"Well then, you're not going to the party," Stan decided. He grabbed Kyle's wrist, "Come on. Let's go home."

"Wait, Stan, I-!" Kyle blurted, fumbling with his wrist in Stan's hold, "Hold on, this isn't fair, I didn't-!"

"-Hold on!" Kenny intervened now, trying to separate them, "Stan, chill the fuck out, man!"

Kyle pulled his wrist, but Stan held his grip firm. With the added pressure of Kenny's forceful tugging, Kyle tripped over his boot and nearly landed facedown on the pavement, but Stan was able to catch him just before he fell.

But even after Stan saved him, Kyle was trying to get away again.

"Dude! Let go, I can't-!" Kyle squirmed to get up.

"Stan!" Kenny pulled at his arms, shouting, "Let go of him, man! I got my parka in my truck, he can wear that!"

A filled silence ensued the parking lot, before Stan stood up and entangled Kyle from his arms. He gave a nod to Kenny, who stood disheveled and bewildered by the sight he had just seen.

"Do," Stan ordered, struggling to compose himself.

Kenny looked him up and down for what was perhaps the hundredth time that day, like he was searching for something beyond himself. He didn't find what he was looking for, but he retreated to his truck anyway.

Stan's eyes followed him. He watched with a heavy heart as Kenny dug through his truck and the problem was solved. He was so close to getting Kyle out of that party that he could taste it. But it happened once again; something got in the way, something held him back from saving his super best friend. This time, the obstacle was his lifelong friend Kenny McCormick.

"Is it just me or is he starting to act a lot like your brother?" Stan asked softly, quiet enough that Kenny couldn't hear him but Kyle could.

Kyle just flexed his wrist and inspected it, "I don't know what you're talking about."

While Kenny was still a good distance away at his truck, Stan took a deep breath and said, "Kyle, you realize there's still time to back down, right? We can go home right now. We can pretend this whole party thing never even happened. You don't need to put yourself at risk."

"You really don't want me to go to this party, do you?" Kyle asked so quietly he was almost whispering. His words were so soft and delicate that he was practically whimpering.

"I really, really don't. I just- I've seen you get hurt too many times this week. I can't let it happen again, I just-... It's all too much."

"Okay. Tell you what, Stan. I sincerely doubt anything's going to happen; these are our friends, you know," Kyle started shakily. He was still timid and soft, but Stan could tell that a flash of his confidence was kindling, "But I know how much you care about all of this, so I'll tell you what. If I 'get hurt,' as you said, I give you full permission to drag me out of the hotel and take me home, okay?"

Stan took a breath, "But- But what if I'm not fast enough? What if I'm not there to stop it before something happens?"

"You know that's not true, Stan," Kyle bit his lower lip, "You've kept me in your sight for every single minute in the last five days. I don't think tonight's going to be any different."

Kenny returned, a pale blue coat bundled in his arms, "This isn't my parka, I think it belongs to Butters. I figured it would fit you better."

Kyle didn't have anything to say to that. He didn't even say anything when Kenny helped slip it over his head.

Stan just gave Kyle a pointed look, and then led them into the hotel, where the party of their lives was there waiting for them.

Now, Stan had been to several of Bebe's parties before. Every time, there was a bit of a different experience. But somehow he just knew that tonight's party was going to be unlike any other one he had been to in his life. He only hoped that by the end of this, Kyle would learn to listen to him more; he didn't know how much more worrying he could take.