A/N: Hey. I want to thank everyone for reviewing! I know that last chapter kinda sucked, no pun intended. Now that I think about it, I seriously don't know what the hell I was on when I wrote that. Sorry if I offended some people with the whole Kyle and Cartman thing. Guess I should've actually put their names in the warning. I can guarantee it'll never happen again, that's for sure. Anytime I put down a certain character in this fic, it by no means reflects the author's opinions and feelings on anyone or anything in particular. I myself am not racist in any way, shape or form.

I'd like to express eternal gratitude to a few people who reviewed. I don't want to embarrass anyone by singling them out but they did give me the inspiration to write ch. 4, which I think is very shitty, but I'll let you be the judge. Now I can go ahead with the rest of the story. I am always open for new ideas though.

WARNINGS:

NO SLASH

ONLY A TROUBLED TEEN WITH MIXED FEELINGS

It had taken Kyle at least 2 days to get the taste of Cartman out of his mouth. He'd brushed his teeth and gargled every chance he got. He stared at the back of Butter's head. He really should be paying attention to the history lecture, but his heart just wasn't in it. He was too busy thinking about tonight and how Stan had agreed to come over to his house after school. Kyle had been looking forward to this all day. He could tell Stan still felt unsure about them, and he wanted to put his cute little mind at ease. Kyle glanced at the clock. Only 15 minutes til the final bell. He couldn't wait to get out of there.

"Why hello Stan, glorious day, isn't it?" Pip asked in that surly British accent of his. He caught up with his fellow classmate in the halls after school. Stan groaned inwardly and turned around, plastering a fake smile on his face. "Yes, it's such a glorious day." He mimicked. Pip didn't seem to notice that Stan was making fun of him. "May I ask why you're carrying two backpacks?"

"Really, Pip. Can't a guy strive for good grades?" Pip look startled. "Well, I suppose there's nothing wrong with getting good grades, but if I'm not mistaken, we only have 7 classes. Did the textbooks grow in numbers or something?" He had a confused look on his face.

Stan gritted his teeth. This was the 5th time someone has asked him why he was doing this, why he was doing that. He wished everyone would just stop pestering him. He didn't pry into other people's lives. He'd appreciate it if they didn't pry into his. But he knew he wouldn't be in this predicament in the first place if Kyle hadn't blabbed his feelings to him that night at Cartman's.

"I just have a lot of homework, that's all." The lie rolled easily off Stan's tongue. He wasn't used to lying this much as he had the past few days, but lately, it was starting to become part of his life, a necessity.

"If you say so. But I'm in most of your classes Stanley, and I feel we weren't given that much homework." Pip went on. Stan felt an incredible urge to strangle Pip right then and there. He didn't care if anyone saw. "Just get out of my face, you stupid French frog!" Stan snapped. He felt rather bad for calling something he wasn't, but it was the only thing he could think of to get rid of the blond haired boy.

Pip's face turned bright red. "I'm not French!" He protested at Stan's back. "Whatever." He muttered under his breath. That had been a close call. Too close for comfort. He didn't know how much longer he could go on like this. People were bound to find out sooner or later that he and Kyle were an item.

So far, no one else at school seemed to know about them. He wasn't too worried if they did. He was worried about what his parents would do. Poor Kyle. He knew his parents would definitely go berserk and try to keep them apart. Especially his mom. Stan was sure his own parents would eventually warm up to the idea of their only son being gay. But first he'd have to find the perfect moment to tell them before Cartman opened his big mouth. He'd rather watch paint dry.

Stan approached Cartman's locker with a big, bright smile on his face. "It's about time, Marsh. I'm gonna miss my bus." He complained. Stan thrust one of the backpacks into Cartman's awaiting hands. He could've just as easily carried his own pack but he decided to be an ass and let Stan do it after their last class while he stayed behind to chat with a friend.

"People are starting to ask questions, you know." Stan told him. He would've gladly broken Cartman's arm at the nonchalant way he shrugged his shoulders. "So what? That's not my problem. You know who to blame for all this. I keep telling you Jewish people are bad for your health, but you never listen, do you? Can I help it if I turn your misfortune into my good fortune?" He flashed a sly grin and slammed his locker shut.

"Later." Cartman shouldered his bag and sauntered off. Stan fumed silently on the way to his own locker. He had planned to go to Kyle's, and he was supposed to meet him out front, but suddenly, he no longer felt like being around anyone. He just wanted to be by himself for a while.

Stan got what he needed and slowly made his way to the big, double glass doors. He slipped on his hat and gloves before heading outside. He shoved his hands inside his brown coat and started down the front steps. Kyle was sitting on a ledge, waiting for him at the bottom.

He jumped up when he saw Stan coming. "Hey, ready to go?" He asked.

"Uh, you know what? I really don't feel like going. Maybe tomorrow perhaps?" Stan felt terribly guilty about canceling on him, but he just wanted to forget about his problems for a while, which included Kyle.

"Oh. Well, ok. Tomorrow's fine." Kyle reassured him, although Stan saw the corners of his mouth turning down. Stan had really disappointed him; Kyle had been looking forward to spending more time with his boyfriend, getting to know each other all over again.

"Are you ok? You're not sick or anything?" Kyle asked, concerned. Stan shook his head. "No, I just can't come today. I remembered I have to do something for my mom." More lying. Stan knew Kyle saw right through his charade; they knew each other too well when the other wasn't up to par.

But Kyle didn't say anything. He just nodded with a hurt look on his face. "Ok, see you tomorrow then." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Stan with what he wanted to begin with: To be alone. He wanted to call him back, to take him in his arms and pretend like they were the only ones in the world.

Instead, inspiration struck and Stan knew whom he could turn to. Chef had always been a good friend and confidant of the boys when they were younger. He hoped he could rely on their old elementary school cook for some insight right now.

Stan knocked on the door and a big, black man with a bed sheet wrapped around him answered the door. "Hello children. How's it going?" He asked in that deep, soothing voice of his. He always said 'children' even if just one of them were present.

"Bad."

"Why bad?"

"Chef, can I come in? I have a problem and I need someone older and wiser to talk to." Stan said. Chef's eyes flitted back and forth, as if there someone in the house, which there probably was. "Well, alright. But make it quick. I'm about to get real lucky, if you know what I mean." Chef let Stan pass and closed the door, following him into the living room.

Stan remained standing, not wanting to take up too much of his time, as he saw Chef was itching to get back to whatever it was he doing before. "What's troubling you Stan?" he asked.

"See, there's this guy I know who says he's gay with his best friend. But his other friend found out about them and threatened to tell both of their parents unless these two guys did what he wanted. But my friend's feeling out of sorts, not really sure what to do with himself and not sure how to handle all the pressure." Stan paused, catching his breath. He was sure Chef could see right through his flimsy lie and see that he was talking about himself.

Chef only stared at him, as if Stan had spoken another language all together. "Well, I don't know what to say except to tell your friend to listen to what's in his heart. I'm sure you'll find some way to – "

"Oh Cheeeeef." A sultry, smooth female voice called. Chef hurried away, peeking his head out from behind the wall's frame. "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll do just fine." Stan sighed.

Once outside, he kicked angrily at the snow-covered ground, which caused tiny showers of flakes to fly. That hadn't turned out quite as he'd thought it would. Back to the old drawing board. The only other person he could turn to was Kyle, but his problem was about Kyle.

The truth was, Stan was afraid of hurting him. Afraid he wouldn't turn out to be everything Kyle expected him to be. He wanted to be the best for him, to be his perfect companion and lover. The list went on and on, but Stan was too caught up in his sorrow to think of them all. If only he could talk to him. But that couldn't happen unless he went to him. And he didn't have the guts to make himself do that right now. His life was going down the drain and he had no idea what to do about it.