Well, here's the fourth. I haven't got much to say except this will all build up … believe me!! I got a flash of inspiration, while in downtown with two of my good buddies today. We were riding the C-train and it was completely silent. It'll totally help and I'm psyched to start writing! So, this chapter is going to be a bit darker. Also, I have decided that once I get at least 10 reviews for each chapter, I'll update. SO REVIEW LIKE MAD!! Read on!

Linger

Kyle's POV

I didn't sleep well that night. The scent of Stan was turned down in the bed sheets and it drove me insane every time my eyes closed. It was like being taunted with something you couldn't have. Kind of like when you're starving and you get a whiff of hamburgers from some fast-food joint, but you haven't got any money. Aside from that, I couldn't lie still when I thought about how his body had been lying where I was just a few hours earlier.

I'm standing on a subway. We don't have subways in South Park. It's crowded with little air to breathe. All the seats are occupied and I'm standing up. The people all around me are suspicious-looking and show no trust in their unkind eyes.

I smell cigarettes and burning flesh. It's enough to make me close my eyes and flinch and when I open them again, Wendy and Stan are right beside me, mixed in the crowd. They're kissing. Wendy's eyes are closed and a smile is playing upon her lips. Her arms are entwined around Stan's neck and she's wearing an ID bracelet. Stan's ID bracelet. Stan is holding her around her small waist. The world around them is nothing but a movie and my heart's breaking. It hurts. God, it fucking hurts.

Cartman is grinning, taunting me. Kenny watches me with slow, steady eyes. It's almost sensual. Stan turns away from Wendy and she's frozen there, her lips pursed out as if she's still attached to his. He's watching to see if I'm looking and when he sees what he wants, he turns back to Wendy, groping her shamelessly.

Stop it, Stan! Just, fucking stop!

The subway suddenly goes dark and my ears are filled with a metallic whirring, yet, the world feels silent. The train shakes violently for a few seconds, slivers of light weaving in and out of the train car, and I can see again.

Bodies all around me. They're dead. Everyone's dead. The rancid smell of blood is filling my nostrils. I'm standing amongst the corpses, piled up. When I look down, I can see Stan on the ground, blood pouring out of his head, a grim smile fucking with his face. His sterling silver ID bracelet is Mother gave him for his birthday last year is on the floor, missing the clasp. Wendy is lying on top of him, her arms dramatically thrown about. Cartman is lying face down in a puddle of blood and Kenny is still standing there, watching me. He has a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead.

I'm holding the gun.

My eyes fly open and when they do, my alarm is ringing and I'm screaming. I felt like I hadn't slept at all, and the little rest I did have had been tainted with horrifying images. I still pushed myself out of bed, shaking away my exhaustion and the faint traces of my nightmare.

"KYLE! TIME TO GET UP!"

"Coming …" I muttered, pulling on some jeans I had found lying on the floor. I didn't really care to shower. Water and soap couldn't get rid of the dirtiness of my dream.

I finished dressing and trailed downstairs, hunched over slightly. Mom tapped me slightly on the back.

"Straighten up, Kyle."

I nodded and took my place at the table, too tired to even argue about eating breakfast. I was a robot. Anybody could control me and there was nothing I could do about it.

Dad glanced at me over his paper and I thought I saw him look at Mom but I couldn't be sure.

I walked to school in a daze, hoping that the high council of fate would take pity on me. Maybe Stan and Wendy would be on the outs today. I wouldn't mind hanging out with Stan, even if he were depressed and mourning over his Grandmother's death.

It was warmer out than yesterday and the sun was peaking through the clouds. The remainder of the snow from yesterday had turned to a sloppy wet slush that soaked the bottoms of my jeans, making them look darker.

The aftermath of a snowfall, I thought with a small grin.

I continued my way to the bus stop and saw only Kenny and Stan. Kenny was smoking a cigarette, his hood back for once showing his dirty blonde hair, and Stan looked a lot better than he had yesterday. His toque was on properly but he showed off an expression of grief. Memory of the nightmare flash through my head. The bullet hole in Kenny's head …

"Hey, Dudes."

"Hey, Kyle." Kenny chirped giving off a toothy grin.

Given the fact that Kenny came from a dirty, poor family, he was still probably the most charming male you could ever meet. He could make any female swoon.

"Hey." Stan said quietly. Kenny gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Keep your head up, Buddy."

Stan only sighed sadly and looked down at his shoes. It was breaking my heart.

"So, what's up with Mr.Broflovski?"

I stood beside Stan and shifted my backpack to my other shoulder.

"Nothing at all. Hey, where the hell's Fatass?"

Stan didn't respond at all, but Kenny shrugged with a slight grin.

"His Mom said he was sick. Probably the same flu Stan has."

I forced a laugh.

"Hey, Stan, maybe you gave it to him!"

Stan looked close to tears again.

"What use am I? I can't do anything right. Everything's my fault."

Kenny and I exchanged worried expressions and then he wrapped an arm around Stan's shoulders, pulling him into a one-armed hug sort of thing.

"Don't say that, Man. You've got a lot of use and you can do a lot of things right. It wasn't your fault that your Grandma died. These things just happen. I mean, hey," He grinned again. "Look at me! Mine died a few days ago and I'm still hanging in strong. You'll pull through, Stan."

I wrapped my arm around Stan's other shoulder.

"Kenny's right, Stan. It's not your fault. Don't be so hard on yourself."

Stan let a few more silent tears fall before he wiped them away on his sleeve. He looked up with delicate sadly fringed eyes.

"Thanks, guys. Really, thanks."

Kenny only winked at me over Stan's shoulder. He had crow's feet at the age of fifteen and his eyes crinkled up when he smiled. He really was a good guy underneath that perverted surface.

As the bus came into sight, Stan took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before he got on. He'd never say, but I knew he wanted it to seem like everything was okay. It was normal. If something was wrong, you don't want the whole world to know and sometimes pretending everything is okay is the best thing to do. A normal human need; normality.

The ride to school was quiet. I sat beside Stan and Kenny was stuck sitting beside Bebe. He groaned and turning to us, shoved a finger down his throat in mocking disgust. Unfortunately, Bebe saw and she slapped him.

"Asshole!"

Kenny mimicked her and Stan's laughter was music to my ears.

The bus ride is relatively tame for once and at one point, Stan's hand and mine brush along. He looks up and smiles at me. His blue eyes sad, he leans into me slightly. You couldn't tell if you had been an observer, but I could feel Stan's shoulder pressed snugly into mine. It's enough to make me blush.

Between us, our jackets covering any evidence, his fingers sought out mine and to everyone else, we're just two friends sitting in calming peace. But we both know that we're two best friends holding hands. And no one needs to know. It's literally between us.

It's the same routine at school. I go to my locker and Stan waits behind. Today, he's completely silent. He's staring at his feet, shuffling his books uncomfortably around in his arms. I suddenly feel a slight pang of anger towards him … for what he did to me in my dream.

"Hey, um, Stan …" I begin.

He looks up waiting for me to continue.

"I-I need to tell …you, uh, something." I clear my throat.

"HEY, STAN!" Wendy's high-pitched voice grips my voice and throws it out the window.

I sigh irritably and little louder than I meant to, for Stan throws me a quick apologetic look.

A flash of long, black hair and she cozies up to him, purring in his ear. He gives her a flirty smile and it's enough to make me sick. Just, because it's not me at his side. All the emotions from my dream are crashing through my head. I clench my fists tightly at my side.

I hate you, Wendy.

"Stan, I heard about your Grandma. I'm so sorry, Baby."

His grief-stricken expression returns and I want to fucking kill Wendy for reminding him. I think I'm the only one who notices him throw back his shoulders slightly.

"Uh, thanks, Wendy."

She cuddles up to him, nuzzling the top of her head under his chin and her hand reaches up and strokes his hair gently.

A flash of silver on her wrist makes me look twice. I wish I hadn't, though.

She's wearing Stan's ID bracelet.

Deep down, I always knew they were a couple. The real deal. But, her wearing his bracelet made it too official. It shattered all my hopes and brought tears into my eyes.

Just like in my dream.

I stand there, shocked and hurt. I turn away quickly and run down the hall and out the doors, leaving my locker wide open … the exact same as Stan's mouth.

I run pass kids smoking and playing hackey-sack outside before school starts. They're all a colorful blur behind my tears. I ignore them and continue down the street. I don't stop until I reach the streetlight.

"Kyle!"

Oh no.

"Kyle! What the hell are you doing? What's wrong with you?!" Stan stops breathlessly beside me, grabbing onto my elbow gently and turning me to face him.

I pull away angrily.

"Don't fucking touch me, Stan!"

Why am I so angry? Who was he to send me all these signals and then give his ID bracelet to Wendy?

Stan stares at me, wide-eyed and confused. He lowers his head and shakes it slightly, then looks back up at me.

"How … what the hell is wrong with you?" He hisses.

What was wrong with me? I'd be the last to know, that was for sure.

I'm sobbing and his face is a palate of blotched colors. I feel him pull me into a hug. It's more relaxed than the one we shared the previous night and I melt into it without even meaning to. His front is soft and safe and his body smells like soap and cologne.

"Kyle, you need to tell me what's wrong. Please?"

I cry for a few more seconds, helpless and heartbroken. I don't care that passing cars can see us. Two teenage boys hugging, one crying, the other pleading.

I look up at him and manage a small smile.

"Stan, you're really fucked up. You know that?"

He stares at me for a minute and pushes my head back into his shoulder, hushing me up and rocking me gently.

I look back up at him after a few seconds. Insane green eyes holding worried blue eyes. The traffic has slowed down and no cars are passing. The world is silent … just like in my dream.

Off in the distance, I can hear the first bell ring, and I reach up and press my lips onto Stan's.

He doesn't pull back.