A/N- So this is it! Last chapter! It's been really fun writing this, I hope you all like the conclusion. I can write an epilogue if enough people want to see a little more. Please review, let me know what you thought of the story!

Hands shaking, I stand outside the school and wait for Stan. He should have been out here twenty minutes ago and I really don't know what's taking him so long. Maybe I'm especially impatient right now because I just want to get home so I can try to find Kenny. He's probably at that abandoned house. He must be.

I need to see him. I need to tell him… something. I'm not really sure what yet. I haven't exactly thought it all through. I don't know what I feel, or how to express it to him. This is all brand new territory to me.

What I do know is this: I can't stop thinking about him. I'm always excited to see him. I care deeply about him. And I enjoyed it when he kissed me.

I also know that I'm incredibly overwhelmed by all this and I don't know what I actually want. It's not as simple as feelings.

It's been half an hour now. Stan still isn't here. I just want to find Kenny. I want to see for myself that he's okay. This is killing me. I need to see him. And hug him. And maybe kiss him. We'll see.

I try calling Stan, but there's no answer. That asshole.

A few minutes pass and I get a text from him.

sorry! I swear, I'll be out soon

I scoff and respond quickly.

Yeah, like I haven't heard that one before.

I feel a timid tap on my shoulder and I turn around to see Butters clutching his books.

"Hi, Kyle," he says. His knuckles are white and he looks more fidgety than normal.

"Hey, Butters," I reply. "What's up?"

He looks around and frowns. "Are you waiting for someone?"

I sigh loudly. "Yeah, I'm waiting for Stan. He's late as always."

Butters nods. "Yeah, I'm waiting for Eric. I think we're supposed to drive home together."

"Is he late, too?" I ask, looking around again for Stan.

Butters smiles nervously at me. "If he's actually coming." He turns a little pink and stares at the ground. "Eric isn't the most reliable person."

I pat Butters on the shoulder and give him a reassuring smile. "Butters, Cartman is a lot of truly awful things. But he obviously cares about you, anyone can see that."

As if on cue, I hear his voice behind me. "Ay! Jewboy! Get your hand off of my boyfriend!" I pull away from Butters right as Cartman walks up and puts his arms around Butters, who is blushing so furiously at this point that he looks sunburnt.

Cartman turns to Butters, grinning. "So you ready to go on our first official date? I'm thinking somewhere really public so I can yell at more people for looking at you wrong." He looks a little too excited about the prospect of getting in fights with people, but for Butters' sake, I don't want to say anything.

Butters looks up shyly. "Date. Yeah. Sounds good."

I see a noticeable change in Cartman's expression. I think it must be affection or nervousness, but I can't be sure because such emotions look very foreign with Cartman's face attached to them. Then he surprises me even more, because he leans down and kisses Butters on the cheek.

He turns to me, cheeks pink, barely making eye contact, unable to stop smiling. I guess this is Cartman with a crush. "See you later, Kyle," he says, and he leads Butters towards his car.

I watch them as they go, and I see Cartman open the door for Butters. They both look so nervous, so unsure. Which I find ridiculous, because after what appears to have happened between them, how could they not be sure about each other?

And it occurs to me that someone could see Kenny and I and think the same thing. And my thoughts are back on him, and back on the urgent feeling that I need to see him. Where the hell is Stan?

What if Stan gets here, I drive to the abandoned house where I think Kenny is, and he's not there? What if he went somewhere else, because he knows I know his hiding spot? What if that wasn't his hiding spot and he was lying to me to get closer to me?

I don't think Kenny is manipulative like that. But what do I know about Kenny, really? What does anyone know about him? I'm not sure how to tell how much of him is an act, how much is his enthusiasm and his charisma masking something else. Or maybe the surface friendly and smiley isn't fake, maybe that's just a different side of him. Maybe he's not covering up for his real self, but that's just a part of him he's more willing to share. And maybe I'll never really be sure.

"Sorry!" I hear Stan's voice say. I turn, and there he is, a little out of breath as though he ran. "I really didn't mean to be late, I swear."

I shrug. "It's alright. What was the holdup?"

Stan lets out a nervous laugh and rubs his neck. He turns and looks at the door to the school. A few people stand on the steps, but most people have left to go home already. "It was Wendy," he says.

I raise my eyebrows. "That girl has some nerve."

He shakes his head. "You have no idea. She pulled me aside in the hallway to- and I quote- discuss the possibility of getting back together with some conditions."

I try to keep my expression neutral and my voice even as I respond. "And? What did you say?"

He laughs. "Don't look so horrified, Ky. You must have no faith in me."

I smile and give him a look. "Can you blame me?"

"I guess not," he says with a shrug. "Well, in very polite terms, I told her to go fuck herself."

I grin. "About time."

"Well, we should go," he says with a smile. "Don't you have somewhere to go?"

Stan drives painfully carefully to my house, and I suddenly sympathize a lot with Kenny. It's agonizing to drive this slow when I have this little patience. I try to contain my squirming and twitching, and I don't say anything, but Stan definitely notices.

"I'm not going to drive any faster," he says, shooting me a look.

"I didn't say anything," I reply.

"You were just in a car accident," he adds, ignoring me.

"It usually takes fifteen minutes to drive," I say, and it almost sounds like a whine. "It's been twenty."

He glares at me. "You were in a car accident yesterday."

It doesn't feel like it was yesterday. It feels like it was a week ago. But I don't complain when it takes another five minutes to get to my house, and I thank Stan for driving me and he tells me very forcefully to drive carefully.

I tell myself I'll try to follow his orders, but I kind of know I'm not going to. I throw my stuff in my room, grab my car keys, and I leave so fast that I'm surprised the tired don't squeal.

It's hard to drive with a broken arm and I keep swerving a tiny bit. I'm not sure if I remember the way to the abandoned house. I hope I do. I know it was out of town, up in the mountains, on a tiny road. But I only sort of remember the way and it took a little while to get there.

I'm doubting if I went the right way when I see the glitters of broken glass strewn across the road. This must be where the accident happened. How damaged is the car? And how would Kenny have gotten up here without his car? Maybe he's not here. Maybe he's just at Stark's Pond.

But I'm halfway there and I figure no harm in checking the place before looking elsewhere.

I try to drive reasonably, I really do. I can't drive too fast with one arm or I'll get in another car accident and I'll either die or never hear the end of it from my mom. But I'm also so anxious that I can't quite seem to go as slow as I usually do.

I get lost in thought, imagining walking into the house and seeing Kenny. I imagine him turned away, head down, smoking a cigarette. I imagine dramatically running towards him, grabbing him, kissing him, telling him how happy I am to see him.

I'm almost surprised when I finally get to the abandoned house. I pull into the driveway slowly. Kenny's car isn't there, but I park anyway. My heart is pounding. I walk up to the house, hesitating at the door before doing in.

The air smells musty and the house is dark, just like before. I'm hit with a feeling of sadness looking at this place. I imagine Kenny sleeping on the torn up couch, alone, cold. I imagine him lying on the floor, staring at the web-covered ceiling.

It makes me feel so lonely, so empty, imagining him spending days and weeks and months in this place. It's so dark and sad and broken. Someone like Kenny doesn't belong somewhere so depressing. He deserves to be surrounded by happiness and light.

I sit on the floor, and stare at the walls and the one window that's not boarded up. I can't imagine staying here, all this dust in the air and the spiders. I don't think I'd be able to sleep. I'd get cold and sad and I'd run away. I wonder how Kenny can stand it.

A car pulls up outside and I jump up and spin around at the sound. I stand, frozen, staring at the door. I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears and I can barely breathe. The engine is turned off and a few moments later, there's Kenny, opening the door.

He's looking at the ground as he pulls the door closed behind him, trying to carry a few books and a plastic bag, so he doesn't see me at first. I'm practically holding my breath.

Our eyes meet and he almost falls over and I can't move.

He lets out a nervous chuckle, not making eye contact. "See, this is why I wasn't going to show anyone this place," he says softly, walking past me and sitting on the rug.

"Kenny-" I start, about to take a step toward him.

"You shouldn't have come," he interrupts, his voice sharp and cold. He starts pulling take out boxes out of the bag along with plastic silverware.

Well, that felt like a punch in the stomach. "I needed to see you," I reply. "I wanted to know you were okay."

"I'm okay," he says, his voice way more gentle. He looks up at me and smiles. "I'm always okay."

"Craig went to the hospital. He said you weren't there," I say, and I'm not sure why.

"Yeah, I left when I woke up. I don't like hospitals," he answers flatly. "You should probably go."

"No, I-" I say. My voice is shaking and so are my hands so I take a deep breath before continuing. "I need to talk to you."

He sighs. "Of course you do," he replies, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Kenny, that kiss, I-"

"Oh, no, not this," he groans, bringing his hands to his face. "I get it, okay? I took the hint. Please, let's just never mention it again."

"No, that's… That's not it," I say with a nervous laugh. "Ken, you were wrong. I was just overwhelmed, and scared. It wasn't that I didn't… I've never… I've never really felt like this before, okay? I'm not good at this, but…"

He burst out laughing, and tried to stand up but he was laughing so hard he almost fell again. He took a few steps towards me, still laughing, his hand by his mouth. As he caught his breath again, he stared into my eyes. I say nothing more, mouth hanging slightly open, confused and a little embarrassed.

"Ky, I have never seen you look so adorably nervous before," he whispers, face just inches away from mine. He tentatively puts his hand on my face.

And then I abruptly lean forward and our lips collide, awkwardly at first, but then we're kissing. And it's amazing. And I'm not scared.