A/N: Hi! I bring you another chapter of Angel Boy! I'm currently writing chapter 7, so I may post chapter 3 on Wednesday. I thank you all for your follows and reviews.

Enjoy !

Wendy was popular, she knew. Everyone looked up to her and had high hopes for her and her future. People expected her to get the valedictorian title, and as far as everyone knew, she'd applied to only the best universities. Part of it was true, but in reality, Wendy was just as bored and depressed as the rest of them. She had applied to the best universities, but when admission exams came, Wendy was too distracted to put her heart into them. She'd freshly broken up with Stan just after winter break ended and felt like a fraud when tests came. She'd miraculously heard back from a few, but Wendy didn't know if she wanted that for her future anymore. In the end, deep down, Wendy knew she might just go to CU, and that would also be okay despite her parents' pressure.

In earlier years, Wendy longed to go to Harvard, Yale, Berkeley, or Stanford. But it was a fever dream, Wendy came to understand. Tuition was expensive as hell; she'd have to work for years to pay for college, and Wendy was tired of being the perfect doll everyone desired her to be. She was exhausted from keeping up with her parents' expectations and, stupidly, the expectations she imposed on herself when she was little. She was bored of the mask she had to wear in front of her parents, friends, and even Stan.

Sweet, sensitive, and depressive Stan; Wendy loved him. She truly did. But Wendy was tired of putting on her mask to avoid unnecessary concern on his part and also competing with Kyle for his attention. If it was up to her, Kyle could have all of Stan. She knew her ex-boyfriend wasn't yet aware of it, but Wendy knew she was doing him a favor.

Stan was pleasant and all, but besides the fact he was on his way to inheriting his father's alcoholism, he could be too innocent for Wendy. Stan would make a face of disbelief if she ever told him that. Wendy? Soft, beautiful, innocent Wendy? How could she be too depraved for Stan? Stan was the face of despair. It couldn't be! She snorted at the thought. It was better to break up with him before her façade could fall and things ended up too bitter to be able to mend.

She knew she shouldn't, but Wendy still attended Crimson Dawn's rehearsals and few presentations, even if it immensely pissed off Kyle. She tried to keep her distance for Kyle's sake, but she'd grown to enjoy their presentations. They weren't half bad, and being with the boys was an easy escape from her worries. She could pretend she was an ordinary eighteen-year-old girl. But as Wendy tried to ignore the death glares Kyle would send her way when Stan looked at her, she was more interested in another person's attention. Kenny McCormick's.

Kenny intrigued Wendy. He always has. He was the nicest of the four friends and the only one Wendy felt she could talk to. Really talk to. The difference between them was he never wore any masks around anyone, and Wendy admired him for it. While Stan was taller and conventionally attractive, Kenny had an angelic face and a dorky smile. She liked that about him. But even then, Kenny always had that mysterious aura around him, which drove her nuts. He never seemed to be fake or fool around with anyone, but at the same time, he perplexed her. She could never know what he was thinking. He was true to his word, but Wendy found she knew little about him.

On the night Pip died, Wendy became too drunk for her liking. She thought about breaking up with Stan that night and how stressful it was to pull him towards her whenever she saw him gravitate towards an inviting Kyle. He had never disliked her; on the opposite, he was also good friends with Wendy. And she knew he didn't hate her for being with Stan, but as much as she tried to convince Kyle that she wasn't interested in Stan anymore, he didn't believe her. But she thought he was a hypocrite, never saying what he was feeling towards Stan while at the same time letting himself be seduced by him whenever there was an opportunity, even if it hurt Wendy.

That night, the alcohol and weed did something to Wendy. She became tired of the puppy eyes Stan was passing Kyle, and giving the redhead a stare that said, don't-you-dare, she dragged Stan out of the run-down building. She was fooling herself, she knew, but she thought the alcohol might ignite something in her. Something worth of keeping the relationship alive.

But as usual, Stan was beyond himself, blabbering about how he was cold, and wanted to go inside with Kyle. Wendy wanted to slap him then. Instead, she kissed him, hoping Stan would come to his senses and hoping, too, she'd feel something in return. He began kissing her back, and for a moment, Wendy thought everything was alright.

"K-Kyle," He muttered, and Wendy's face paled then. She stopped kissing him and tried to get him off of her.

"S-Stop it, Stan!"

Wendy couldn't believe it. Even in his most unhinged state, Stan still preferred Kyle over her. He'd nibbled at her neck then, tickling Wendy, making her laugh. She was angry at him, angry at her for keeping up with this for so long. Nevertheless, she kept on kissing him out of contempt; if they were already outside, she could at least make it worth it.

Wendy remembered seeing movement, and while she was disgusted by her foul-smelling boyfriend, she was entranced by the hunched figure a few steps ahead of them. It was Kenny McCormick. Wendy couldn't remember all too well what happened that night, but with flared cheeks, the mental image of her getting turned on by someone watching them made her squirm. That night, the alcohol made Wendy brave, uninhibited her with lust, and as she locked eyes with Kenny, she did the unthinkable. She let him see Stan finger her. She'd never done anything so indecent and didn't know why she did it, but seeing his unwavering stare and serious expression made Wendy wet.

Stan was awful at it, but Wendy fantasized about the blonde, mysterious friend in her boyfriend's shoes. He didn't leave, and Wendy could've sworn he was also getting off, seeing them. Something was wrong, Wendy's memory told her. As Kenny's eyes showed her he was as wanton as she was, he merely stood there, frozen in place. He seemed to be in pain, hurting. He was slightly crouched, almost as if the wall was the only thing keeping him standing, and as faulty as Wendy's memory of the night was, she could've sworn she saw him covered in blood.

The more Wendy tried to remember the night, the more fearful she became. She knew it wasn't possible Kenny killed Pip. After that, Wendy's memory became fuzzy; she couldn't remember what happened afterward. But she knew Pip was still alive when Stan finally convinced her to return inside. She didn't remember seeing Kenny, didn't remember at all where he went. While Wendy didn't believe Kenny was the one responsible, she was sure she saw him covered in blood. It was best to remain cautious with him.

It was impossible, Wendy realized. Kenny was gentle, amicable, and friendly to her. However, she convinced herself he had a crush on her, and it was difficult not to react to it when, differing from Stan, Kenny saw her for who she really was. They never talked about that night in the alley; instead, they kept on as if nothing had happened. Yet, weeks, months passed by, and Wendy found herself charmed by him. She liked teasing him, seeing his soft blush when she hugged him, his icy blue eyes, different from Stan's stormy ones, watching silently over her every movement. Still, he remained a mystery to her.

Wendy sighed and took a break from her maths homework. She'd become too distracted by her thoughts to do it anyway. Stan had invited her to his rehearsal, but she decided to skip it that night. She still had to make dinner and didn't want to piggyback on Stan's remaining dinner. Moreover, she didn't want to make him uncomfortable and didn't want any glares from Kyle. They could take a break from her for one night.

Her house was empty, as usual. After Pip's death, her mother became more involved with the City Hall, and her father, a surgeon, was also never home. Wendy had been accustomed to it since she was little. Nannies came and went, but Wendy never liked any of them. Never felt safe. She was the picture-perfect image of a girl when she was little, but Wendy always behaved her worst around nannies. Eventually, her mother gave up when she realized Wendy could take her of herself. She couldn't, but she pretended she could, and she was "old" enough to know how to use the stove and close the front door. Wendy was seven.

Maybe that's why I clung so much to Stan, Wendy bitterly thought as she reheated some leftover rice and made omurice. It was one of the few things she was glad she could learn from her Grandmother before she passed. On the few occasions she visited them, her grandmother was one of the few persons Wendy could rely on. She cried for days when she died; Wendy was eleven. She missed cooking with her and missed smelling the sweet floral perfume when she hugged her.

Wendy found she had no appetite and saw it was barely six o'clock. She could make it to Stan's rehearsal if she wanted; instead, Wendy ran upstairs and went to get her backpack. It was Thursday night, which meant it'd be a busy night.

April was still a chilly month, and Wendy had to hug herself as she passed through the streets of South Park. She knew it was dangerous to go on alone, but she didn't care. It was the adrenaline she lacked in her miserable, grim life.

It began getting dark, and Wendy knew she had work to do. She'd managed to get some intel from the Peppermint Hippo. The girls there gave Wendy questionable looks when she told them she might want to work there. They told her to speak to a guy named "Gino," and Wendy remembered seeing that guy's name in one of her mother's files. She'd written down his license plate, and on the nights she could, she'd search him all over the city. It was beyond reckless and, given the town's situation, deathly. But Wendy had nothing better to do, and her craving for justice soared after Pip's death. It couldn't be a petty thief; it couldn't be.

When questioned, she pretended to do an article on South Park's nightlife for the school paper, always denying her actual purposes and giving out fake names. She'd pinpoint the Hippo's owner to a possible money laundry with the police station. She didn't know if it had a connection to the mafia or if it was just a stand-alone case, but Wendy's blood sang with anticipation as she saw Gino's car parked a few blocks from the station.

Everybody expected Wendy to become a government diplomat, lawyer, or doctor, like her father. Those were professions Wendy respected and, to a point, saw as possibilities. But what Wendy enjoyed most above everything was to investigate, study, and get her hands dirty when something was amiss. She knew all the police force in South Park was corrupt, it was common knowledge, and at the age of eight-teen, Wendy thought a minor crime solving wouldn't do her much harm. She'd done it since she was little, and in every situation, she'd manage to get herself away with it. After all, what could go wrong?

Wendy had enough of her stupid, insignificant, and fake life. If she was going to die, she could at least die having fought for something. She didn't know how much time she had left until this too, bored her.

As Wendy silently walked between the dark allies, she didn't notice the dark figure that began following her. Instead, she saw a few men talking outside a building, and Wendy took out her instant camera to take a picture. Before the flash could go out, she was pulled to the side by the hooded figure; its hand was against her mouth, muffling her scream.

They were far enough to avoid being listened to, and Wendy gasped when the dark figure unhooded himself.

"Kenny? What are you doing here?" Wendy said, surprise written all over her face.

"I could ask the same to you," His voice was raspy and low, and it reminded Wendy of how Kenny used to lower his voice for his Mysterion persona back when they were children.

"I thought…" She began, but Kenny dragged her towards a back ally just as she started recovering from the surprise.

"Come, we have to keep moving. We can't stay here."

"But why? Nothing is going on," She objected, but Kenny sharply turned his head to her. His expression serious. "If I think you were doing what you were doing, then there's a lot going on. Come,"

"Fine," She said, giving in.

A/N: See you soon :))