Stan sat next to Kyle on the bus; Kyle hated the bus ride to school. He loved car rides; loved long car rides, but this ride was never relaxing. The bus ride to school included Stan complaining on and on about Wendy Testaburger, a long past girlfriend that he never got over, Cartman's constant reminder of hatred and ridicule towards Kyle and his religion. Not to mention the looming aggravation that had sunken so deep into Kyle; the fact that Ms. Garrison had moved and started working at the middle school.

Kyle most disliked Ms. Garrison. She was possibly the most irritating, contradicting, clueless human being Kyle ever encountered. The world had crushed all around him when he received his class schedule that late summer and learned that he would be seeing her first period every morning for the next ten months. Kyle sighed as he stared out the window with a mundane glaze over his eyes. Stan leaned over a little and asked in nearly a whisper,

"Hey…you're hungry, right?"

Kyle blushed; not only Ms. Garrison and Cartman did Kyle dislike, but he also held a nauseating hatred for the sound of grumbling stomachs. His embarrassment showed through the red that rose into his cheeks as he glared out the window and replied, "Yeah."

Stan smirked and pulled his backpack onto his lap. He went digging through his pockets until he pulled out a bag of Pop-tarts and offered them to Kyle. Stan smiled victoriously as he had produced a smile from his friend; Kyle's timid happiness melted into a somewhat concerned expression as he inquired, "Isn't that your breakfast?"

Stan smirked; so like Kyle, to not care how badly his stomach would ache later if only to make sure Stan was fed. Stan chuckled and pushed his hand more out into Kyle's air before telling his friend simply, "Don't worry, Kyle. I'm perfectly fine; I stole my dad's toast this morning. You should have these, I'm giving them to you."

Kyle was about to reach out and take them, but froze half way and interrogated further, "Are these…Kosher?"

Stan shook his head with a laugh and shoved the snack into Kyle's chest, and scolded, "What? You've never had Pop-tarts, Kye?"

Kyle flustered; it wasn't often that Stan used the nickname "Kye" with him. Stan frequently used it when taunting Kyle, teasing or joking around. Kyle shook his head negatively and told Stan, "Sorry, no. My mom never lets me have stuff like this; she's always yelling at me about my sugar intake."

Stan's face sank back into seriousness as he agreed, "Yeah, well…if she tells you not to have them, then don't over-do it, kay?"

Stan didn't really know what he was saying. Could a diabetic over do it? He quickly imagined Kyle kicking the bucket of some stupid pop-tarts and he nearly burst out laughing. He knew he probably didn't make any sense in what he had just said, but Kyle sympathized with Stan's unenlightenment and simply nodded, replying shortly, "Yeah, okay."

The bus came to another stop, and who would board but Ms. Wendy Testaburger. She walked by Stan without a second glance, but Stan's gaze lingered so longingly on her that his entire head twisted as she walked by him to the back of the bus. Stan sighed; oh had he had loved Wendy. She was graceful, popular, beautiful, smart and everything about her made Stan regurgitate. She was simply perfect.

Kyle took a small bite of the pop-tart, then looked to his right where Stan sat, watching Ms. Testaburger with solemn infatuation. Kyle did not exactly pity Stan anymore. After Stan went Emo and sat in his room, dressed darkly with stupid make-up and flooded himself with self-pity, leaving behind his best friend…Kyle didn't know how he was supposed to feel. He was very territorial when it came to Stan.

Stan was his "Super Best Friend", after all. Stan was supposed to be there for Kyle, no matter what time of day, of what week or what year. It should never matter; he just never wanted Stan too far from him. He lifted himself, stretching his neck over to stare at the raven-haired, purple-dressed fairy princess that had ensnared Stan in her cootie-infested web of lies. He glared to the girl, although she never turned to see him, but continued to gossip with Ms. Bebe Stevens and all of the other girls surrounding her.

Kyle wanted to break down Wendy Testaburger so badly; there was a small core within Kyle Broflovski that continued to burn, only fueled by the hatred he had for the few things he disliked and in there, there was a small section reserved especially for Ms. Testaburger. A small little fraction of that core burned solely on the loathing he had for Wendy and all the torture she put his best friend through.

When he looked to Wendy a reoccurring thought would always come to mind, and he would wish he were a cartoon protagonist. A cartoon hero; like Danny Phantom, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent and Peter Parker. He wished he could be someone like them, who walked through the streets of their cities like normal human beings, but at any moment could save everyone. Someone who could make a difference, always got the girl in the end and delivered justice unto those who deserved it.

And if life were a cartoon, Wendy Testaburger would be the dark villain that sat high in her dark, spooky castle of popularity and hormonal dramatics. Kyle snapped back into reality when he heard Stan sigh heavily. Kyle sighed too, before he softly placed his hand on Stan's shoulder. The ebony-haired boy turned to face his friend the moment he felt the spot of warmth curling over his collar-bone. He was sad when he saw Kyle's concerned expression.

He didn't really know why it saddened him to see Kyle worrying, but it did. He hated being the cause of any emotional turmoil when it came to Kyle. He only wanted Kyle to remember friendship and reliance when he thought of Stan. Stan didn't want to mean anything else; only compassion and care; he never wanted to be the promise of confusion, annoyance or aggravation. He never wanted that.

He quickly turned himself entirely around and said softly as Kyle's hand slid away from him,

"Sorry, Kyle."

Kyle smiled gently and altered his position slightly before replying, "Don't worry about it, dude. I just want you to be okay again."

At this statement, for reasons Stan could not define, his face heated with rushed blood. Why did he blush? It was no secret that he was still not over Wendy Testaburger; he knew he wasn't embarrassed. Well, when it came to Kyle Broflovski, Stan couldn't be embarrassed. He knew Kyle was the only kid in South Park; no, he was the only person in South Park, or maybe even the entire world that understood Stan.

Stan knew Kyle to be the only human being who never needed explanations, never needed proof and never needed excuses from Stan. Stan never had to lie to Kyle, he never had to give Kyle a "why" or "how"; Kyle always understood. He was always so easy to come to, always so easy to be open with and honest with. Maybe that's why Stan blushed; that simply watching Stan's head turn, he knew something was wrecked between his ribs.

Stan somewhat nervously stammered, "N-no, it's fine. I'm fine, Kyle…kind of."

Kyle's emerald eyes sank into a solemn shade as he slipped a little closer to Stan and told him,

"In all honesty, Stan…she didn't deserve you."

Again, a rush of blood to Stan's face sent him off course. He couldn't stand looking Kyle in the eyes for some reason; he didn't know why. It made him nervous and anxious, so he looked away as he told Kyle, "…thanks, Kyle."

Kyle nodded negatively as the bus came to a stop at the school; Stan finally looked into Kyle's eyes again as he heard his friend murmur, "No…don't thank me for telling you that. It's not a compliment. I want you to know that…you're way, way too good for her, dude. So don't think about it anymore."

Before Stan could stutter a response, Cartman walked by, noting their serious, meaningful expressions and Stan's fluster. The fat boy then snorted, "I'm sure you fags wanna ass-ram all morning, but we're at school."

Kyle immediately glared to Cartman; reaching somewhat over Stan with a clenched fist waving as he snarled, "Shut the fuck up, fat-ass; unlike you, we have souls and I was just trying to help Stan out."

"Uhm, no, Kahl. You don't have a soul, cause you're a Ginger. Everyone knows Gingers don't have souls, Kahl." Cartman retorted

Stan couldn't really understand the rest of what was said; only heard growled insults and colorful language. He was too distracted with the proximity of Kyle; Stan's face was just brushing against Kyle's chest. Although it was covered in an orange jacket with a green collar, he could feel Kyle's body heat leaking through and warming against him. He was turning red again…

"GET THE HELL OFF THE BUS, WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" screamed Tweak as he ran off the bus flailing his arms and shrieking.

Tweak had grown out of a lot of his horrific screaming tantrums; he even gave up coffee to calm his nerves. It didn't do a whole lot, though. The kids had finally gotten over how annoying it was and learned to ignore it. Cartman turned his back to Stan and Kyle before muttering something to the nature of, "Goddamn gay Jew."

Before Kyle could curse more at Cartman, though, Stan rose his hand against Kyle's chest gingerly. Kyle seemed surprised that Stan was there at all; as if he had forgotten he was stretching over him. Kyle backed away and flustered as he nervously scratched the back of his neck, smiling and telling him, "Sorry; forgot I was over you; you're soft, I just…didn't realize…"

Stan chuckled nervously and smiled back, replying, "Oh…it's okay. Don't worry…let's…let's just go, then…"

"Yeah."