A/N- I haven't quite started the next chapter, so I don't know when it'll be up. Review, please, I love hearing what you think.

I wake up to the sun peeking through my blinds, my head pounding. I roll over and press my face into the pillow. I feel awful. I feel like I'm dying. I want to go back to sleep immediately. Last night was a terrible idea. I'm never drinking or going to a party or leaving this bed ever, ever again.

In the midst of my self pity, I start thinking about last night. I went to a party and never left the kitchen or my friends. Which makes me a pretty worthless party guest. I remember Stan leaving. Where did Stan go? Did I see him for the rest of the night? I don't think so.

I frowned into my pillow. How did I get home, then? Wasn't Stan the one who drove me to the party? I don't remember opening my front door or walking up the stairs or taking off my shoes or getting in bed.

Oh. That's because I didn't. Kenny carried me.

I shot up, eyes wide. I kissed him. I kissed Kenny. Who would I do that?

I look wildly around the room. I'm alone here. I almost expected to see Kenny sleeping on the floor, since he told Cartman he was going to do that, but he's not there.

Oh, God. Fuck. I bury my face in my hands. He probably left because I freaked him out. He probably didn't want to stay after that.

Why the hell would I kiss him? What came over me?

You know what, I was drunk. I probably just did it as a thank you, didn't think about it. Yeah, that must've been it. Why else would I have done that?

The world feels like it's spinning around me. Ugh. I feel sick, and I'm not sure if it's because of how drunk I was last night or how stupid and worthless I feel right now. I'm such an idiot. Drinking that much was stupid. Passing out in the car was stupid. Kissing Kenny was stupid. Seriously, what's wrong with me?

I lie back down and hope I can fall back asleep. My mind is going over what happened last night over and over and over again. I can't seem to stop myself from fixating on it and calming down. Eventually I manage to fall asleep, though I have no idea how.

I think I dream that Kenny is in my room. I think I dream that he brushes my hair out of my eyes with his fingertips and kisses my forehead. I'm not sure though, because I wake up and it's dark outside and I'm disoriented.

The rest of the weekend, I'm just recovering from the hangover. I spend most of my time in bed, on my laptop, or drinking coffee. I periodically check my phone, but I get no messages. Not from Stan, not from Kenny, not from anyone. I don't send any either, though.

Come Monday morning, it's Kenny's turn to drive. I haven't texted him and he hasn't texted me, so I's just standing outside, hoping he comes. If he is coming, he's seven minutes late. He's probably avoiding me after what happened after the party. I don't blame him. I'd avoid me, too. In fact, I really kind of want to avoid him, and he didn't even do anything wrong. I'm the one who made things weird.

I check my watch. Ten minutes late. I'll give him another five and if he's not here I'll just drive myself. Really, I should text him or call him and just ask him where he is. But I feel too awkward. I feel too ashamed. I mean, really, what am I supposed to say? "Sorry I kissed you, drunken accident, so when are you picking me up?" It sounds too ridiculous. I really just want to ignore it, but I don't know how to act normal.

I check my watch again. It's been five minutes. Maybe I'll just give him another few, just in case. People oversleep sometimes. Or maybe he's forgotten that it's his turn and is waiting for me outside of his house.

"Fuck," I say out loud when I look at the time. I'm going to be late. I run to my car and drive faster than usual to get to school. I'm still five minutes late for class, but if I run, it shouldn't be a big deal. I'm rarely ever late, so the teacher will probably cut me some slack.

I walk into the lunch room and immediately look around for Kenny. I see Craig, Tweek, and Clyde sitting at their usual table, but no Kenny. Well, at least he's not just avoiding me, I guess.

I sit down next to Stan and he mutters a greeting. I guess he's still mad at me, though I still don't really know why.

Cartman leans forward on the table. "Hey, so it turns out Jews can't handle their liquor," he says with a smirk.

I roll my eyes. "Another stereotype you've invented?"

He shakes his head and points at me with conviction. "I will have you know that my experiments are based in science, my good man. You are my proof."

I glare at him a little, but I can't find enough energy to argue. "Whatever, man. I'm not in the mood."

Stan glances at me, looking suddenly interested. "How's Kenny?" he asks suddenly.

I clench my jaw a little. Stan can kind of be a dick sometimes. "Haven't seen him today," I reply, trying to sound casual. I don't know what Stan's issue with Kenny is, but I really don't want to deal with it right now. Or ever.

"Ah!" Cartman says, leaning back. "That must be why you're in no mood to hear my theories! You miss your boyfriend. Tell me, Kyle, did you two make sweet love after the party? Are you an official fag now?"

Very abruptly, Butters stands up. I barely registered that he was sitting at the table, too, since he hadn't said a word or made a sound. He glares at Cartman so viciously that I barely believe that it's Butters standing there. Instead, I'm sure it must be some other blond kid that looks just like him.

He looks like he's about to say something, with his mouth slightly open and his bottom lip quivering. Cartman just looks startled, wide brown eyes full of confusion. The moment drags on for minute, Butters getting more and more red. Then he just turns sharply and walks away.

"Well, that was weird," Stan says, chuckling a little. I almost wince. Stan has never been great at reading the mood and acting accordingly.

Cartman shoots him a glare. "Shut the fuck up, Stan," he mumbles, getting up quickly and walking after Butters.

Stan looks over at me, seeming too surprised to keep up giving me the cold shoulder. "What's going on with them?"

I shrug. "No idea."

We spend the rest of lunch talking and hanging out as though we haven't been arguing and ignoring each other for the past week. He doesn't mention the party, or where he went, or why he stalked off in a bad mood. I don't ask. He also doesn't mention Wendy or Kenny, which I appreciate.

Right as lunch is ending, I tell him to go ahead without me, I'll meet him in class. And I walk over to Craig and Tweek and Clyde,

"Hey, Kyle," Craig says, one eyebrow raised, no sign of the energetic and animated guy I saw at the party.

"Hey, dude. Um, have you seen Kenny around?" I ask hesitantly. I really don't want to appear too interested, because if he tells Kenny I asked, I don't want to seem clingy. Especially after I kissed him.

"Not since the party," Craig says with a shrug. I notice that Clyde looks a little amused that I'm asking them, and I try to brush it off.

"Really? You haven't heard from him or anything?" I reply, getting a little anxious.

Craig sighs as he stands up. "No. Kyle, you know how he is. He disappears sometimes." He pats me once on the shoulder. "You signed up for this."

They all three walk away, and I'm left standing in the cafeteria, feeling strangely like my insides are collapsing. I know Kenny disappears sometimes. Of course I know. I just never realized I'd be this upset about it. It's never happened before, but now I miss him.