Update: Re-uploaded to correct glaring typos.

Third Installment
"Anything for You"

It was late at night and the rain was pounding, a torrent, a waterfall nurturing the life that slept on the ground. A faint rumble of thunder accompanied the torrent every few minutes. Kyle was asleep on Damien's couch, clutching an empty cup with a few grounds of cocoa powder still stuck to the bottom, his arm dangling lazily just above the ground. Damien stared at his face. The sparkling emerald eyes, the perfectly shaped nose, the adorable freckles, the way his matted hair spilled out from under his hat onto his forehead in a mess of sexy red curls. He stared at his body, the orange jacket and dark green pants that were wet from the rain they had walked to Damien's house in, the soft, smooth skin that just begged to be touched. His heart fluttered at the sound of Kyle's deep breaths and soft snores, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept peacefully. You would never guess that he had been crying his eyes out a few minutes earlier before the lullaby of the rain finally soothed him into rest.

He couldn't take the sexual frustration anymoreKyle was cute when he slept; way, way too cute. He knelt down in front of the Jewish boy and pressed his hand gently to Kyle's back. There was no blanket covering it; Damien's house was always warm enough, and Kyle hadn't bothered to take off his coat anyway. His eyes focused on the soft lips that quietly opened and closed, breathing out soft whispers as he drowned in the bliss of unconsciousness. Damien wondered what he was dreaming about. Stan, probably.

"Kyle… I mean it… I like you a lot…" Damien repeated quietly as he leaned closer to the face he had been staring at ever since the other boy had closed his eyes. Carefully and softly, he pressed his lips to Kyle's like he had longed to do for so many years. His lips were soft and warm, sprinkled with the taste of cinnamon cocoa and just the slightest touch of rain. The rain outside fell harder and a flash of lightning illuminated the house as Kyle's eyes snapped open.

Oh…FUCK.

Kyle pushed Damien away with all the force he could muster in his tired state, causing Damien to fall hard on his bottom with a thud that couldn't be heard well over the storm outside, before leaping to his feet and dashing out the door as fast as he could run without another thought. Damien just stood back and watched the only person he had ever loved disappear into the night. As he watched, only one thought ran through his mind.

Kyle has a sweet ass.

Stan sat on a bench near a lake in the woods and gazed sadly at his reflection. Every few minutes, he would pick up a stone, and throw it into the water, breaking the reflection and wishing it would stay broken. He hated the person in the reflection. He wanted the person in the reflection to die. He wanted the person in the reflection to go away never hurt Kyle again.

"I don't deserve him…" he mumbled as he threw another stone, this one landing squarely on the reflection's heart.

"An eye for an eye, a heart for a heart. That's for what you did to Kyle's heart," he scolded himself. He laughed sadly as he picked up another rock. "God, I sound like such a fag."

He studied his reflection more carefully. He thought about all that he and Kyle had shared, and how many times Kyle had told him, You have the most beautiful blue eyes…

He looked at the eyes of his reflection. There were no tears in them. He didn't have those warm, soft eyes that you always read about in romance novels. He had cold, hard eyes. They didn't look beautiful to him. They looked dead, and there were no tears in them.

Maybe that was a side effect that comes with seeing people die.

"Stan?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and lifted his head to locate the source of the sound, with a faint hope that it was Kyle. But no, Kyle's voice wasn't that deep…

"What are you doing here?"

His heart sank as he realized that the owner of the voice was not Kyle, but Cartman. The heavier boy sat down beside him and moved his hand back and forth on the bench nervously.

"Well? Stan? Are you going to answer my question or not? What are you doing here?"

Stan turned to look at his obese friend. "I fucked up, dude…I'm such an idiot. I lost Kyle, and it's all my fault… and now I'm sitting here crying over it like a fag. I suck…"

Cartman examined his face closely. "You aren't crying."

Stan shook a little and nearly choked as he replied. "That's not because I'm strong or anything, though. It's just because I'm… evil."

The other boy cocked his head curiously. "Evil? What makes you think you're evil?"

Stan shook his head, shaking more violently. He expected tears to well up, but they didn't come, which only made his heart hurt more. "Cartman… do you know… wh-what I did to Kyle?"

Cartman looked down sadly… and then smirked. "You broke up, right?" Stan nodded. "What's that in your hand?" Stan opened his left palm and stared at it. Half of the picture Damien had given him was in the center of it. It was the half that had Kyle on it. Cartman snickered in recognition.

Stan shot him a dirty look. "It's not funny, fatass."

Cartman snickered again. "Yeah it is. I gave Damien those pictures, dude."

Stan's shot a fiery glare at the brown-haired boy. "You…! You fat asshole!" he screamed as he clamped his hands around Cartman's neck and closed them tight, choking him. "What the fuck did you do that for you! GOD DAMN FATASS…!"

Cartman barely managed to pry Stan's hands off his throat long enough to reply. "Fuck, calm down, Smokes."

Stan's jaw dropped. "How did you know…?"

"I know everything, Smokes. Like… that you used to smoke, for example."

Stan glared and pushed Cartman, trying to knock him off the bench. It must have been a coincidence that he called him "Smokes," he didn't really know that had been Stan's nickname when he was in a gang, and knowing that he used to smoke was most likely a guess."Yeah, right. You don't know anything, fatass."

"I know that you killed-"

Stan shot Cartman an even angrier look and began strangling him again. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP."

Cartman wrenched Stan's hands off of his neck again. "Jesus! Chill, flower boy!"

"How am I supposed to 'chill' when you talk about things like that?"

"Hey, if it were me, I'd be proud."

"I'm not proud of – of-" He buried his head in his hands. "Fuck, just – Cartman, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure, dude, that's what friends are for."

Stan laughed at his use of the word friends. "Cartman… how deep is this lake?"

"…Pretty fucking deep, dude. I lost a car down there."

Stan didn't worry about why Cartman was driving a car in the middle of the woods. He knew better than to ask by now. "Cartman… I want you to push me…" He choked. "And don't let me get back up."

Cartman smiled at his brunette friend. "Anything for you, Smokes."