From Ben: Sorry if this one's a little short, but I only write until I feel a chapter is done, then I write no more. I let the story come out like it wants to, and when a chapter is over, adding to it to make it longer will only mess it up. Look on the bright side: you got three chapters in one day.

Chapter Three – Sleepless Night

Several hours have passed since the last time we saw Kyle. He is now at home, lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. He has been unable to sleep tonight for he has been presented with a problem: how does he really feel about Stan? Though we know, and we'd like to scream "You love him you fool", we are but unseen observers in this drama, no more than ghosts. So Kyle lays where he is, thinking fondly of Stan and how he wishes he were here now, for surely Stan would know what to do; Stan always knows.

He turns to his bedside table, where his ushanka sits. He finally managed to locate it while we've been away, and you might be surprised to learn that it was actually in the cabinet under the bathroom sink. How it got there, he has no idea, but he's glad in any case that he's finally found it. Now, maybe, he'll be able to sit in class.

We sit here for another hour, watching Kyle toss and turn, unable to get to sleep no matter how hard he tries. Finally, he kicks the blankets off of him, jumps from his bed, and grabs some clothes to change into. We turn our backs as he strips down and dresses himself. When we see him walk over and sit on the bed to put on his shoes, we turn our attention back to him.

After he's dressed (complete with ushanka), he sneaks out of his bedroom with us right behind him. He goes downstairs to the coat closet by the door and grabs his favorite orange vest before heading out the front door. We follow him down the road on a route he apparently knows very well, for even as dark as it is he has no trouble finding his way.

"Stupid Mackey," he hisses to no one at all, "filling my head with doubts. Stan's my best friend! What more can I say about it?"

He arrives at a house not far from his own a few minutes later and walks up the driveway. He digs a rock out of the dirt and chunks it at one of the upstairs windows. When he fails to get a response, he throws another rock, followed by another and another. Finally, a light in the window comes on and Stan's groggy face appears. He looks down at his best friend in what, from this distance, resembles irritation mixed with amusement. A minute passes and the front door opens. We're on Kyle's heels as he hurries up to it.

"What is it, dude?" Stan asks.

"I...couldn't sleep, Stan," Kyle says.

Stan scoffs at this and for a split second it appears like he's going to slam the door, but then he beckons the other boy into the house. They walk up the stairs and into a bedroom laid out a great deal like Kyle's. When the door is shut and safely latched behind them (and us), they turn and look at each other. There is a brief glimpse in Kyle's eyes of the affection we saw earlier, then it is gone, replaced by the worry that has been plaguing him all night.

"Dude, I've been trying to sleep all night," Kyle says, "but...something happened today."

"I know. You got thrown out of class because nobody likes your hair."

"No, after that. See, when I went to Mackey's office, he asked me how I feel about...someone."

"Do I know this someone?" Stan asks with a smile.

"Yeah," Kyle replies, chuckling, "you could say that."

"Well, who is it?"

Kyle turns away from his best friend and crosses his arms. He looks at the floor, thinking hard about how he should handle this situation. Why had he come here in the first place? He couldn't really Stan about what had happened today or why it was bugging him. For one, it would be too awkward and might put a strain on their friendship. Not to mention the fact that if he knew why it was bugging him, he'd have an answer to give Mackey and probably wouldn't be having this problem anyway.

"I don't think I can tell you," he says finally.

Stan looks genuinely hurt at this.

"Why not?" he asks in a rather irritated voice. "We're best friends, aren't we? And besides, you came and woke me up, remember? If we can't trust each other, how can we call ourselves 'best friends'?"

"You're right," Kyle admits, turning back. "Okay, Stan, if you really want to know, he asked me how I really feel about...you."

"And?"

"I didn't know what to tell him."

The expression on Stan's face is that of complete shock. Had Kyle just said what he'd heard him say? No, there has to be another explanation for this.

"You didn't tell him we were best friends?"

"I didn't know what to tell him!" Kyle cries. "He just threw it on me."

"And you still don't know the answer," Stan asks, his voice flat and emotionless. This was not a question, but a statement.

"I'm afraid not."

Stan shakes his head and turns away from Kyle. He walks to the window and looks out at the darkness and does not speak for several minutes. Kyle shuffles his feet and looks down at the floor, worried and nervous.

"Stan, I--" he says when he finally gathers his courage, but is cut off abruptly by the hand of his friend being raised sharply into the air.

"Kyle, you wake me up in the middle of the night. You come here to talk to me, then you tell me you can't tell me things. Then you tell me you aren't sure if we're best friends" he says without looking back.

"What?! No! That's not what I--"

"I think you need to leave."

"But--"

"Now!"

He turns and walks briskly across the room, jerks the door open, and gestures for Kyle to make an exit immediately. Kyle looks like he may cry, but he composes himself and storms from the room. We follow him out just as the door slams behind us. As soon as Kyle is sure Stan is not watching, he runs from the house, not bothering to look back. We stop following now out of respect. If he cries at all tonight, we will not be there to watch.