A/N: So, it's been a while. But, I've been on vacation for a little, so that's a teeny excuse. Eh…so anyway, I'm trying to get back into this story, so excuse the chapters if they're a little shorter. Onward, minions!

Kyle fidgeted nervously in the Marsh kitchen. He really didn't want to be here right now, having this discussion with Stan. Subconsciously, he started wringing his hands together, weaving through anything he could touch.

"S-stan, you know that-" he started, stuttering, before Stan's booming shout silenced the feeble attempt.

"No Kyle, I don't know anything anymore! I don't know if you really actually ever liked me, or if I'm just desperate, or why I never noticed how bitchy Wendy is, or why I love you!" he cried, fed up with all the shit of his life. There was only so much insanity one could take.

But his last unknown threw Kyle off guard. Stan openly admitted he'd taken a romantic interest to the red head, but never before had he confessed love. His emerald green eyes widened in surprise

"Well, Stan, it's just that…I…I…." he didn't even fully comprehend why he was pushing his best friend and longtime crush away either. How was he supposed to supply an answer to Stan? Across the table, said teen exhaled sharply, turning his head down.

"I get it. Don't worry, I get it. You couldn't possibly want a loser like me. I was just fantasizing and I guess my brain took things a little too far. Or maybe I caught myself too late. I get it, Kyle," mumbled a dejected Stan. Kyle longed to reach out and hug him, maybe cry a little himself. This whole ordeal just made him want to sob, no matter how big a girl that made him.

And for once, the Hebrew's instinct took over for his brain. Before he could even consciously realize what he was doing, his limbs moved toward the sullen boy and enveloped him in a tender embrace. Stan reacted almost immediately; there was a small, reluctant pause in which he was wondering whether he was dreaming, and wound his arms around Kyle's waist. His head nuzzled its way into a pale, green clad shoulder as he whispered,

"I'm so sorry for being like this, Kyle…" His grip tightened, and choked sobs filled the silence of the room. Kyle could feel every rocking tremor that made its through Stan's body, and he felt helpless. The most he could do was hug back and stroke the boy's muscled back.

After a good ten minutes, Stan had calmed down enough to where he was simply sitting quietly in the red head's arms. In the span of time, the red head hadn't stopped massaging Stan's back, but now his hand slowed in the small of the boy's back. An overwhelming urge to tilt the onyx haired boy's head up and just kiss all the pain away overtook him. Shaking his head, he squeezed Stan for good measure. Then, his voice hoarse from lack of use and emotion he was trying to hide, finally broke the silence.

"Stan….I….I'll see you on Monday," he mumbled, pulling away. He willed his frail body to scramble up his things into his back pack as Stan recuperated, wiping his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve.

"Yeah, okay. See you later." Kyle inwardly cringed at his best friend's voice, it sounded so lost, so defeated.

It was too much for him to handle, so he made a mad dash through the door before his instinct took over again and he went to 'comfort' his friend. He knew only one thing could make it all go away, but he just couldn't come to terms with it. It didn't seem right.

As he walked down the shadowed, empty streets of town, he was lost deep in thought.

Everything was so fucked up, and it was all his fault.

Something was up with Kenny, and Stan was now probably considering suicide because his emotions had screwed up. It was bad enough to be the source of someone dear's pain, but to be the reason they consider death was just excruciating.

It was far too dark outside, there must've been a storm coming. Kyle hadn't intended to leave Stan's house without a ride home, and so didn't pack anything that could've helped him see. Every other step for him was a fumble, a trip on the edge of the curb or a random stone placed on the sidewalk he could hardly see.

For walking in almost utter bottomless darkness, Kyle figured it had been a relatively easy walk, minus his heavy thoughts. That was, until he was pulled into the confines of a somehow even darker alleyway.

Suddenly, a cloth was shoved into his mouth and tied around the back of his head. His attempts to scream were cut off, and his panicked thrashing did no good; who ever had decided to capture him was much stronger and heavier than him and pinned his limbs down. In the little light his eyes had adjusted to, Kyle still couldn't have identified his attacker.

The man, as he'd detected by the organ being shoved into his leg, was adorned in black shades, with black clothes and the hood of the jacket pulled up, obscuring any hair or other facial features.

Fingers found their way to his hands, pulling them to each other and binding them with a harsh length of rope. Lightning fast, the man was on his knees binding Kyle's feet as well. That was it for Kyle, as he had no escape.

As if the attacker had read his mind, he started to chuckle maniacally, a low throaty sound that made the red head wriggle in fear. That laugh didn't exactly sound comforting, or human. It sounded insane.

It sounded hungry.

Kyle gulped harshly, slightly grimacing in pain when the gag constricted from his movement. He was afraid. Truly afraid. His captor sauntered up, in what he supposed was supposed to be a seductive walk.

"Hello, " the voice murmured, too low and lust driven to be recognized.

"I hope you enjoy this as much as I do." And suddenly, his body was being attacked by a large pair of hands. They were running up and down the length of his body, trying to find the devices that would remove his clothes.

When they finally found them –zippers and a few buttons- the hands wrapped themselves around the cloth and yanked, successfully ripping the fabric from his body. By now, Kyle was struggling not to cry; he knew what was going to happen. There was no use fighting it, he had no way of escape nor any way to distract the man.

As his pants slid off, Kyle managed to silently scream in his head.

"Somebody…help me…."

And unbeknownst to him, help would come. Help would come indeed, but it would be far too late. Kyle's fate was inexplicably sealed.