Kyle must have left in confusion; that day there was no school. Stan walked around the house cleaning, trying to get that boy off his mind. Stan was rummaging through some old drawers when he gasped. He had been so tired, so worn out and overwhelmed with Kyle and Cartman and Kenny that he completely forgot that he was meeting up with Wendy tomorrow. He closed his eyes to imagine her, but all that came to his mind's eyes was the red head with his troubled, teary eyes…

"Don't worry about it, dude. I just want you to be okay again."

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

"You're still coming over after school, loser."

"S-sorry. I forgot I was holding on. Y-you can go."

"I'm sad when you're sad, Stan…I can help as much as you can help worrying about me…I just care too much about you, and when I know you're confused and upset…I get the same way…so please, Stan…tell me what to do…tell me what to do to make you happy again; like you used to be."

"Ugh…Stan…I'm not doing this for my health…I'm doing this because I care about you. If I didn't want to help you, Stan, I wouldn't do it."

"Then don't hesitate, Stan. I know you, and you never have to explain yourself to me. You know I'll always care about you, and when you're confused, I am too. If you wanted me to hug you, dude, no matter how gay it is I'll hug you."

"You know, Stan…you're awesome."

"You're just cool in every way. I mean…if I had to choose between a life with a woman I loved, or a life of abstinence with you…I'd definitely choose you."

"Cartman is hardly a sir. He is a monster at the most dignified, so please, Sir Marsh, don't be foolish. As I have no attachment to our acquaintance Kenneth, I would not wish to extract anything from him. So I suppose, if put in the situation, I would choose to play lover to you."

"Stanley!"

Stan jumped when he heard his mother's voice.

"Yeah, Mom?"

She entered the room; "Is everything okay?"

"Mom…I'm meeting up with Wendy after school tomorrow."

It looked like she was trying to smile, but was not successful. She sighed and led Stan to his bed. They sat down and Stan stared at her as she sighed and told him softly, "You know I don't like that girl. She's just not right for you."

Stan didn't hate his mother. Not at all, but his emotions had been so pent up these last few weeks, they had been so secret and confusing and infuriating. His eyes grew wet, his throat felt hot as he nearly snarled, "Then who is, Mom!?"

His mother looked to him, immensely taken aback. He started crying, his hands balled into fists against his knees. He snapped, "No one, Mom. There's no one out there for me, not Wendy, not…there's just no one, so why not? Why not go with her if she really feels that strongly? There's no one else, Mom, there's no one who's going to be right for me…"

His mother wrapped her arm around his back and muttered, "Darling…that's not true…"

"Mom…I'm so confused…"

His mother's eyes softened and she uttered softly, "Honey…I know it may seem like there's nothing out there now, but one day, whether it be tomorrow or twenty years from now, there will be, and in that moment you'll know what to do; you'll know what you want."

He looked up to her sympathetic, wise eyes and smiled. His mother had never said anything so profound when guiding him before. It warmed his heart to hear it.

"…thanks, Mom."

She smiled and walked to the door, turning back before walking out and mumbling something to the nature of, "It's why I became a mother, honey."

He sat in his room for a long while, wiping away at the teary residue left trickling down his face. He sighed and thought of Kyle smiling, of him laughing, of him joking around…and he smiled as he fell asleep again, emotionally exhausted.

Kyle stormed in the house, running to his room he slammed his door behind him and muttered profanities. His cursing grew louder and fell again on and off, his anger confusing and unlabeled. He didn't know why he was so angry. He couldn't understand why he was so sensitive all of a sudden.

"God damn it, fuck, shit, fuck, mother-fucking, fucking shit…fuck…"

He slid down the door, his fists balled up against it as he fell to his knees. Tears fell from his tightly shut eyes, his brows knitted inwardly, so angry with himself, so angry with everything and everyone. He opened his eyes…

"W-why am I so angry, God?"

Kyle was never one to be very religious. Usually he was never bothered with it. He was very lost, though. He was so angry with even Him. So why not turn to him, seeing as he has the most power in the situation.

"God…why am I so confused? I used to be happy, then he kissed me and I got all fucked up, then I was sad and confused and then I was happy when he wanted to be my friend again and I was content for a long time until he fucked me up again! He let me kiss him and he tried to convince me that I wanted to be with him…why? Why, God? Why am I so lost? Why am I even questioning this? Why do I want to kiss him? Why do I believe him when he tells me that I want and need him? Please…please, God…"

He didn't know what to ask for. All he could do was plead for something he didn't name. It was all he was capable of in this babbling, furious state. His eyes grew wide and motionless as he felt a pressure on his shoulder. A hand he could not see was handing him a friendly gesture and Kyle felt the words spill as if it weren't him saying it, "I love him…"

The hand's pressure disappeared and Kyle turned around to see nothing but his curtains blowing in the wind from outside his window. His tears were still dripping down his shocked face. His cheeks grew pink, his eyes grew low and a loosely hung pout formed as he uttered again, "…I love him…"

He looked to the floor and smiled shyly, repeating, "I love Stan…I'm in love with him…"

He chuckled and whimpered, "…I'd really known all along…"