Disclaimer: Not now, nor ever will be mine.

Chapter Three: Falling

Butters nervously knocked his knuckles together and hesitantly slid in next to Kenny. His blue eyes scanned the perimeters constantly as though this simple act would mean instant death. Kenny smirked, though he noted the new bruises on his cheek. Perhaps the reason for his profound jumpiness had more to do with his home life than simply sitting by him. Then again, he was known as a pervert by many. And that theory would have held up but for one reason- Butters hadn't looked at him when he sat down. Kenny wasn't certain he knew he was there at all.

Clenching his fists, he wondered whether he ought to risk relaxing his hands or not. His fingers yearned to stroke the bruises and he longed snap about injustice to someone so adorable. In fact, he opened his mouth- then the sight of Kyle, Cartman, and Stan trooping in shut it rapidly. Butters temporarily forgotten (though the sound of his knuckles crashing together was still heard), he directed his attention at the threesome.

Stan kept shooting glares at both Kyle and Cartman, but he looked more bewildered than upset. He whispered something to Kyle but before the redheaded boy responded, Cartman answered for him. Kyle and Stan appeared thoroughly dejected and Cartman, as usual, lorded over them. The thing that disturbed Kenny was not Cartman's usual authoritative position but Kyle and Stan's separation. It was far too out of the ordinary.

Loping an arm around him, Cartman flashed another grin at Wendy. Wendy's eyes darted furtively towards Stan, stormy gray eyes flashing at the overweight boy. Her eyes lingered on him and Kyle, jade eyes wavering miserably. She didn't know what was going on here, but she didn't like it one bit. Instead, of smiling in response, she flipped him off.

Cartman growled, clutching Kyle painfully tight. He whimpered and started to snap a response, but a muttered threat silenced him effectively. Now Kenny and Wendy weren't the only ones staring. Butters stopped knocking his knuckles together, Bebe stopped talking, and Clyde tore his attention from Tweak. In a matter of seconds, the entire class scrutinized the three like they'd never seen them before.

Cartman, naturally, took this opportunity to make an announcement. Kissing Kyle roughly on the lips, he ignored his squirms and pressed his tongue against his lips. The color drained from Stan's face and he nearly missed his seat on the way to sit down. His knuckles were as white as the desk and Kenny offered him a sympathetic smile he never saw.

"May I present my new boyfriend?" he smirked, massaging his back. Stan passed out.

…

"Are you happy, fat ass?" Kyle growled, leaning over his best friend. Knuckles just as white as him, he opened his hand to stroke his face, but Cartman slapped it away. All the class scrutinized them and whispers erupted. Cartman reveled in them and Kyle thought he might be sick.

"Well, how was I supposed to know the faggot would faint?" Cartman hissed back and caught the concern and love in Kyle's eyes. Biting back a painful gasp, he satisfied himself by punching Stan hard in the face. Kyle moved to strike back, but Stan awoke before he could.

Coughing and sputtering, Stan was too pissed to notice Kyle jabbing Cartman in the stomach. Instead, he shoved them both away and stood shakily to his feet. Kyle offered him a hand, but he glowered in response. Gathering his things, he moved in the back with Butters and Kenny. The hurt on Kyle's face lingered in Kenny's mind for a long time to come.

…

"Why didn't you tell me?" Stan hissed on the lunch line. "What were you thinking? What the hell is wrong with you? We're best friends, damn it! Why didn't you tell me?"

Kyle sighed, having already endured this type of speech for the duration of the morning. The secret burned within him and whenever he broached the subject, Cartman mysteriously appeared. He wanted to kill him, he truly did. If only that stupid android hadn't developed empathy in third grade- they could have been rid of him years ago. Then he wouldn't have to endure Stan's tirades and this aching separation.

He'd never been so close and yet so far from him. Every time he contemplated telling him and perhaps forging a force against him, Cartman elbowed him in the back. They'd always been tight and now, thanks to his latest scheme, there was a gap the size of the Grand Canyon. Swallowing hard, he ignored the butterflies in his stomach.

You think I enjoyed having his lips all over me this morning? Kyle yearned to roar. His lips trembled to screech it to everyone and cram his plan where it belonged, straight up his ass. Unbidden, Kenny's comment about his dreams surfaced and he swallowed rising bile. Maybe that wasn't exactly what he wanted there. Ugh.

"What's the matter, faggot? Jealous?" Cartman crooned, wrapping his arms around his waist. Kenny, examining his four dollars woefully, stuffed them back into his parka pocket and shot him a look. Unfortunately, whatever mental message he sent bounced back (probably, he thought, because there's no such address) and he continued.

"I bet you'd love to slide your hands under his jacket like this," he taunted, slipping his own hands underneath. Kyle turned green and fought a wave of nausea. The journal, he reminded himself steely before he vomited, the journal.

"And feel him up like this." Grinning widely, he squeezed his rear. Stan's face shone like the setting sun and Kenny almost pitied Cartman. The envy nearly blinded people. If he didn't watch his step, he'd blurt it out.

However, Kenny needn't have worried. Kyle, a violet shade of green, shoved him away and ran to the bathroom to retch.

…

Stan stood outside the bathroom and pounded his fist against the brick wall. Crowds mullioned outside- lunch had ended a few minutes ago. When Kyle had broken away from Cartman, Stan followed at a distance. Despite his roiling fury, his concern outweighed anything else. However, it stilled him and kept him here. Part of him wondered whether Kyle was truly sick and if it indeed stemmed from Cartman.

Leaping nimbly aside in the nick of time, reflexes enabled Stan to catch him before he hit the floor. Kyle hung limply in his arms and muttered something about "never touching the fatass again as long as I live" and "fuck that journal". A stream of curses directed at him issued forth and Stan blinked, propping him up against a nearby locker. Finally, his green eyes cleared and sought his. Stan, far too perplexed to snap, scrutinized him.

"Where's Cartman?" he breathed, eyes sweeping the immediate area like a hawk. He wished he had a breath mint or something- his mouth tasted horrible.

"How the hell should I know? I'm not his boyfriend," he retorted, folding his arms across his chest. As quickly as his anger died down, it rose again. Desperation lit up the Jewish boy's face and he tentatively placed his hands on either side of his face to keep him from glaring down the hallway. Stan blinked again, befuddled.

"If you are his boyfriend, why did you throw up?" he continued, but in a gentler tone. Kyle offered him a twist of the lips and then, glancing to and fro swiftly, sighed heavily. One hand dropped from his face, but the other remained. Against Stan's face, it was soft and comforting.

"I…I'm no-" he began, but Cartman's waddle halted him. I don't want him- I want you.

The bottom fell out of his stomach and he staggered, leaning heavily against the locker. Honestly, the possibility of having more than friendly feelings for Stan had never entered his mind before. Guiltily, he glanced up, but Stan appeared not to possess telepathy. He breathed slightly easier.

"What are you doing?" he growled in his ear and jerked him away. Kyle cast him a hopeless look and shrugged helplessly. Blood pounded in Stan's ears and an inaudible growl escaped him. There was something fishy going on and he would get to the bottom of it.

"If you're hurting Kyle-" he began warningly, but they passed the corner before he finished his threat.

…

Butters shuffled his feet and stared at the blacktop. A shadow flitted by, but he ignored it. Sighing heavily, he resigned himself to another lonely recess. The bruises on his face stung to the touch. Mentally, he berated himself for upsetting his parents enough to merit them. Things were always his fault- his parents were just helping him see that.

"I thought they didn't hit you in the face," came a muffled and tactfully restrained voice. Craning his neck, a stray sunbeam struck Kenny and illuminated his golden hair. Despite himself, a blush spread across his cheeks. He looked like a god with his radiant hair and brilliant azure eyes.

His uncovered hand caressed his battered cheek while the other pulled his hoodie down. Butters shivered, blush deepening. He didn't know why, but he liked the attention. Only on the rare occasion was he the recipient of a tender touch. Yet a nagging suspicion lurked.

"Are-aren't you a pervert?" Butters blurted, never one to properly enunciate himself. Kenny rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders. He could almost cook an egg on the kid's face.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," Kenny replied smoothly, resisting the urge to bask in his reddened visage. Thus, it began.

…

Emotions, Eric Cartman decided, were putrid and disgusting. In the past, he relished anger and hatred and none of the so called positive and weaker emotions. Now, unfortunately, he found himself under the grip of the strongest one yet- affection. Glancing at Butters and Kenny, a sick pang of jealousy struck him. Though Butters was far too trusting anyway, Kenny clearly wasn't abusing his power. Eric had never experienced a relationship where he wasn't either in complete control or something close to it. That'd served him well in the past.

But when he looked down at Kyle, he wasn't sure he wanted to keep controlling him. The thought he might be ensnared in his charms unnerved him. When he'd kissed him and pulled him close, he wanted more. His body warmth compelled him...and something else as well. Unbidden, his dreams surfaced and he swallowed hard, remembering all too well what he'd enjoyed then. In his waking hours, he'd never anticipated them to be true desires. Dreams were dreams, usually.

He asked himself not for the first time if this wasn't a real rouse. What if in the process of wooing Wendy, he fell for Kyle? He could already feel himself attracted to him and his brutal nature receding. But it was preposterous. Kyle wasn't anything more than a stupid Jew.

A stupid Jew you enjoyed kissing...

Gritting his teeth, he pounded the wall, glared at Kenny and Butters, and then yanked Kyle to his feet. Perhaps more domination would erase the desire to make out with him. Perhaps by lying to himself, he might be able to avoid the consequences.

Word ate my last scene, so I had to rewrite it. I hope it came out all right...and no replies to reviews, both because I'm tired and because I don't trust anything to keep what I put in. Thanks to everyone who reviewed (all three of you last chapter) and to those who are reading and not reviewing- shame on you!

Until we meet again...