Chapter Three: Anger

"Ugh," Kyle groaned, rolling over in bed and sleepily reaching for the vibrating phone on his nightstand. "Who the fuck is calling me in the middle of the night?" He grumbled, though he had a sneaking suspicion. Yawning, he squinted at the screen of his phone, and then rolled his eyes and answered it.

"Stan, do you have any idea what time it is?" He greeted his best friend, sounding more exhausted than annoyed. Stan wouldn't call in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency, but Kyle couldn't help being just a little annoyed at being woken up.

"Kyle! Kenny's at my house again and he looks like hell, dude." Came Stan's frantic response. At the word 'Kenny', Kyle had already started getting out of bed. Stan was almost infuriatingly proud when it came to that boy. Kyle knew that their friend stayed with Stan sometimes, even more often than just the times he knew about, and Stan had begun to act like Kenny was his responsibility. He'd taught himself first aid, how to recognize and deal with a drug overdose, all sorts of things that most people never bothered to learn. He never asked for help with Kenny, determined to take care of him by himself. The only two times he'd ever asked for Kyle's help, they'd only barely saved Kenny's life.

"I'm on my way," he answered. "Is there anything I should bring?"

Stan hung up the call and sighed, closing his eyes and leaning against the door frame of the laundry room. It wouldn't take long for Kyle to show up. He just had to figure out how much to tell him. Kenny, for all his nonchalance and exhibitionist tendencies, was incredibly private, and Stan knew he wouldn't want Kyle knowing what happened. He was amazed that Kenny had even shared it with him, although he hadn't been able to say it outright. But Kyle was going to ask questions, and Stan needed his advice.

He wandered back upstairs while he was waiting for Kyle, and paused on the stairs when he heard a small whimpering sound coming from his room. Kenny was trembling, the soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the pained expression on his face as he tried to pull the blanket over his head despite the bandages that were restricting his movement. Stan knelt by the side of the bed, running a hand through his friend's sweat-soaked blond hair. "Shh, Kenny, you're alright now," he murmured. "Wake up, Ken."

Kenny looked wild-eyed at Stan when he first woke up. "You're safe, if's okay." The athlete said, trying to keep his voice calm. Kenny's frantic breathing slowed, and eventually he stopped shaking. Stan carefully pulled the blanket up over the top of his head, which seemed to have an instantly calming effect on his friend. Kenny fell back asleep almost immediately, but Stan stayed with him, watching him, making sure the nightmare didn't start up again.

Eventually, Stan heard the front door open and close, signaling Kyle's arrival. He glanced back at Kenny one more time before standing up and heading downstairs as quietly as he could. "Stan?" Kyle called out. "Where are you guys?"

"Shh!" Stan hissed as he came down the stairs. Kyle hurried over to him. "How is he?" He asked, concern in his eyes. Stan looked agitated, and if Stan was this worked up, he could only imagine how Kenny was doing. Stan looked away from him uncomfortably. "He's... sleeping," he said. "I cleaned him up and bandaged him up but I don't know what else I can do for him."

Kyle frowned. "What happened to him?" He asked. Stan didn't answer at first, choosing instead to gesture for Kyle to follow him upstairs. He didn't like the idea of leaving Kenny alone too long. Especially not if he was having nightmares. He'd promised Kenny that he was going to protect him, and he was going to keep that promise. He led Kyle upstairs, pausing in his doorway to check on Kenny. The boy's sleep had grown fitful again - he'd managed to kick off most of the blanket in his struggling, tossing and turning and shaking violently. Stan immediately went to his side to try to calm him down, while Kyle stood in the doorway, watching anxiously. Despite Stan's best efforts, Kenny was a mess. Yet, when he focused on Stan he grew calm again, at least closer to it.

Once Stan had gotten the boy back into somewhat of a peaceful sleep he glanced back at Kyle, and slowly backed out of the room so they could talk. He raised an eyebrow, trying to gauge what was on Kyle's mind that was causing that preoccupied expression. "I think you've got a lot of explaining to do, dude," said the redhead softly.

They sat on Stan's parents' bed to talk, keeping the door open so they could hear if anything happened with Kenny. Stan sighed as he sat down, leaning against the headboard and closing his eyes. It felt so good to rest. Kyle couldn't help but smile at him. "You look beat, dude," he said, pulling Stan forward to stop him from just falling asleep right there. Stan shook his head. "I am," he said. "It's just been a long night."

"What the hell happened?" Kyle asked, crossing his legs and looking at Stan. The athlete frowned, scratching his head as he tried to work out what exactly to tell his friend. "I was watching the game when I heard a sound outside," he said eventually. "I went to check and he was already passed out, he's never done that before, he always at least makes it inside. So I brought him in and cleaned him up and took care of his injuries and he's been like that ever since and I don't know what to do except keep calming him down but on this end I'm freaking out, honestly."

Kyle sighed. "Can you please just tell me what happened instead of trying to act all mysterious and shit? The only person good at being mysterious around here is Kenny. You suck at it."

Stan couldn't decide whether to laugh or to be a little offended. Eventually he sighed. "I can't, dude. I feel like I'm betraying him." Kyle looked at him quizzically. "Why? We're his best friends, I'm just here to help. If you're not going to fucking tell me anything, why even wake me up at two in the fucking morning, Stan!?"

Stan glared at his friend when he raised his voice, and Kyle glared back at him. It was Stan who broke first, sighing and looking down. "Because I can't do this alone. If he didn't keep panicking like that I think I might have already done something I'd regret."

Kyle placed a hand on his best friend's knee as Stan glanced out the door, watching as Kenny's sleep became fitful again. "Then talk to me," Kyle said. "Let me help. I'm worried about him too."

Stan sighed. "It was Cartman." He said, gritting his teeth. "He isn't going to admit it but I know it was Cartman. He's been all weird ever since Kenny came out as bi freshman year. I know there must have been more than Kenny told us. He's fucking creepy." Kyle rolled his eyes. "Stan, I don't think you need to tell me what a fucknugget that guy is. What the fuck did he do this time? I mean, I'm not actually surprised he did something, I just..." he frowned. "He looks really scared."

Stan glared down into his lap. "He... Cartman..." he trailed off, realizing that he'd been clenching his fists. "His... ass was bleeding, goddammit."

Kyle looked at him, piecing things together. "You can't be serious."

Stan glared at him. "Why would I joke about this shit, Kyle? Cartman fucking... Kenny, he basically admitted it, he didn't even want to say it." He took a deep breath, trying to keep down the rage that was starting to build up inside of him.

Kyle seemed to be trying (and failing) not to look shocked. "How did you know it was lardass?" He asked. Stan frowned. "He smelled like Cartman." He said, his tone almost hurt. "And his pants were covered with cheesy poof dust. You know Cartman pretty much singlehandedly keeps them in business."

Kyle sighed. "That doesn't mean it was him, Stan. Look, I hate Cartman too. He and his fucking jewkillers can all go die in a ditch for all I care. But I don't think even he would sink this low. Besides, I don't think he has a dick big enough to fuck anybody."

Stan shoved him. "Shut the fuck up, dude. I'm being serious. I really think it was him. It makes sense. Who the fuck else could have done something like this? Cartman was stalking him for months after he came out. Maybe he never stopped."

Kyle sighed. "Okay. Let's assume you're right. What do we even do about it?" Stan shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really want to do anything until he wakes up and I can see how he's really doing."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "What do you need me for, then?" Stan took another deep breath. "To stop me from going out and bashing Cartman's fat head in."

Kyle snorted. "You feeling okay, Stan? Because you just asked to me of all people to stop you from hurting Cartman."

Stan actually chuckled a little. "Fine, then. Watch Kenny while I go bash Cartman's fat head in." Kyle smirked, laying back on the bed. "Yeah, alright, I'll get right to that, Stan."

Stan swatted at his friend, smiling. "My parents are still in Florida visiting Shelly if you want to stay. There's extra blankets in the closet, I wouldn't suggest going under these." Kyle nodded, taking off his ushanka. "Where are you sleeping?" He asked.

"My room," Stan answered, standing up and shaking his head. "I don't want him to be alone."