Sorry for the delayed update. Thanks for the reviews, keep them coming.

Kenny's POV

January 26th

Struggling with Math was definitely a bad card to pull because the next day, when I'd woken up tingling from head to foot with this newfound warmth, I'd found a text on my phone from Stan which read something like this:

Kenny, dude I'm struggling soooo bad with this math thingy.

I don't wanna be a pain in the ass but could you and Kyle help me out?

Today after school maybe? Lemme know, man.

"Fuck..." I grumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose and squeezing my eyes shut as if to fend off irritation. I didn't want to be angry at Stan; he was just being naive and had blindly accepted my poor excuse of studying...he saw this as a way to get back with his best friend and hopefully gain a little bit more of Kyle's company again. I mean, the poor guy must be stressing over this. I could imagine him over-thinking it all in his room and then asking his mom what he should do as a last resort. It made me feel overly guilty if anything and made me want to enlighten him rather than leave him in the dark.

But Kyle didn't seem ready to explain his feelings yet and I wasn't going to be the one to give him the shove and be the one taking the heat for it. This was my first relationship, and it was amazing and spectacular. Why would I want to ruin that over a little guilt? So what if Stan felt a bit of the cold shoulder for a while? I've felt it since we were kids. He could stand it for a while longer, right?

"Who text you?" Kyle said groggily, surprising me since it was 5:30am and he usually needed persuading to get up for school...which I was happy to supply since it allowed me to use my imagination.

"Stan," I replied reluctantly, first considering lying so to prevent Kyle from re-thinking the whole secret thing, and possibly the whole relationship thing. "He wants to study with us after school today..."

"What?" Kyle groaned loudly, resting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his arms around my waist. "But tonight we were gonna..."

"I know, I know," I cut him off, feeling my annoyance with Stan worsen at the thought of those plans being cancelled because of him. "But he'd probably only be over for an hour or so and then he can go and we can do whatever the hell we want." The 'whatever the hell we want' part made me a little lightheaded; endless possibilities swirling through my mind with dizzying speed. I had to prevent my imagination from running any further in fear of Kyle noticing a change in me physically...and in case you haven't grasped what I'm getting at, I mean getting a little turned on.

Kyle apparently didn't have a dirty mind like I did and just took my 'whatever the hell we want' as something like scrabble. He sighed heavily and started to get up, his arms slipping away from me, which made my skin protest as the chill of loneliness crept in. I lay there for a while longer, picking at his mattress and trying not to look at him as he disappeared to the bathroom for a few minutes.

I stared for a moment or two at the text Stan had sent me, reading into every letter and trying to interpret what he truly meant by this text. My stomach began to churn nervously as I remembered how I used to imagine Stan and I together...how every part of me would turn to lava the moment we set eyes on one another, whenever he'd smile at me. All those warm, doting feelings had suddenly turned slightly bitter, and I was feeling frustrated that he wanted to spend time with his best friend, who just so happened to now be my boyfriend. The speed of how everything was changing right now startled me a smidge; after we'd kissed it was kind of quietly agreed that we were now boyfriend and boyfriend.

"Fine, he can come over, but only for an hour or two," Kyle said, returning to the bedroom after what felt like forever in the bathroom. "No longer."

I felt the need to ask why it bothered him so much, why he didn't want Stan over for that long and why he was so reluctant to spend any time with anyone else other than myself. But it was much to flattering, and the more I thought about it, the more excited I became that someone really, REALLY wanted me all for themselves and didn't want anyone else but me. That was the first time that'd ever happened to me in my life and a small guilt, a small concern was nothing compared to the feeling of being wanted.

"Thanks, Kenny," Stan said to me during English, the only time we were truly alone.

I blinked, casting him an uncertain sideways glance as I tried to work out whether or not this was sarcasm or if he was implying at something else. He looked awful; his skin was chalkier than usual and he had a few bags under his eyes. Some nagging thought told me that he hadn't been sleeping well due to being worried about Kyle...but I shook it off, forcing a half grin.

"Pfft, for what?" I asked, trying to speak above the loud, enthusiastic chatter of the classroom as everyone took advantage of one the rare moments when Mr. Cunningham left us to our own devises whilst he talked to another teacher. "For being so amazingly handsome? For helping you write that poem? No offense, dude, but I think Shakespeare shed a little tear when he heard you read your poem aloud this morning."

Stan appeared to be stung at first by this remark but it dimmed almost instantly, and a smile flitted across his face. "I wouldn't say amazingly handsome, Ken. Maybe reasonably decent looking, but nothing more and nothing less. You're like a kinda pretty moth in a butterfly house."

I narrowed my eyes. "Quite poetic of you, Stan. You sure you suck at English? I think you failed so badly on your poem 'cos you wanted an excuse to hear my sexy voice."

Stan snorted and gave me a brisk shove that nearly knocked me sideways off of my chair but, thanks to my awesome balance, I remained upright, proving him a weakling.

"So, seriously, what you thanking me for?" I inquired, lowering my voice as Mr. Cunningham returned at the noise died down immediately. I don't know why though, he blatantly knew everyone had burst into talk the instant he left the room, and his swooping gaze told us that before he turned around to scrub the lesson's objectives off of the white board and replace them with new ones.

"For...for...for letting me study with you and Kyle today," Stan stammered, keeping his head low and avoiding my prying stare. "I know its kinda lame but I miss hanging out with you guys...a lot. I feel a little left out, is all. I was left walking home with Cartman yesterday and it kinda sucked not having you guys there. Where did you guys go anyway?" He kept saying 'you guys' as if to strain how isolated he was feeling and it made me feel worse.

"Oh...um...sorry, man. We were gonna meet you; you went to the bathroom and Kyle came early and said he really needed some extra help with English so I offered to help," I lied, my words tumbling out like wasps, each lie stinging just as bad as the last. I shrugged. "I couldn't find you so I just agreed. Sorry."

Stan seemed perplexed at first but just accepted it, nodding and raising his head, embarrassing moment over and done with. He continued to scribble on his poem, and I on mine, but I was just writing over everything I'd already written. Now I felt sick with remorse and I felt like writing him a note at the bottom of my work telling him everything; at least he couldn't exclaim or shout at me in the middle of class and then he would understand it wasn't anything he'd done.

The bell rang like a hideously harsh voice screeching: "TIME TO LEAVE, TIME TO ENDURE AN AWKWARD FAKE-STUDY SESSION WITH YOUR SECRET-BOYFRIEND AND EX-CRUSH-WHO-FEELS-LEFT-OUT-AND-DOESN'T-KNOW-WHY. Stan and I took our time getting up, neither of us noticing the other had slowed down too as we scraped our papers and books into our bags and zipped them up simultaneously. We left the classroom side-by-side, mumbling a return 'bye' to Mr. Cunningham, who was cursing at the mess made by the students.

Kyle met us outside at the entrance, looking equally as anxious as I did, and most likely Stan too. He gave a recognisably fake smile and a small wave that both Stan and I returned with equally as forced smiles.

"Hey, Stan, hey Kenny," Kyle greeted us, trying to sound bright and chirpy. "Heard you need a little help in Math too Stan, huh?"

Stan nodded shortly, trying to return to the enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm doing really shitty right now. Mrs Hayworth says if I don't improve, I might be knocked down a set."

"Dude!" Kyle's reaction was not faked; he was genuinely shocked at this revelation. "You should've told me!"

"Yeah well...it's embarrassing," Stan said quietly, flushing a little, seeming encouraged by Kyle's concern.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Stan," Kyle assured him. "Tell me what you're stuck on and we'll go over it, won't we, Kenny?"

I nodded and that was the last time I was invited to speak the entire walk home. It felt like old times, as if mine and Kyle's relationship had been some daydream and I had fallen back into reality, a reality that felt like a punch in the gut and a flick to the head that said: Earth to Kenny! Earth sucked. Kyle and Stan were talking like two old ladies on the bus; nonstop and paying no heed to anyone else who was tagging along. I toddled after them, hands buried into pockets and, for the first time since Kyle and I had become an item, I drew my hood over my head, drowning in my solitude once more.

"Man, I get it the way you explain it, Kyle. Mrs Hayworth makes it so complicated and sound like rocket science rather than an equation."

I rolled my eyes, and of course it went unnoticed. I sat on Kyle's bed while Stan and my boyfriend sat on the floor, Kyle pointing at a question and Stan stroking his chin for a moment before clicking and giving an answer, which turned out to be correct. Woopty doo. None of these questions they were doing, none of these subjects had been covered in my class. I felt like clearing my throat and reminding them I was in the bottom set, not top, but I decided I'd let Stan have Kyle's direct attention for a while.

Stan didn't leave after one or two hours, not even three. It was 10:48pm by the time Kyle's mom came up and asked if Stan was alright getting home. Of course, Kyle quickly offered Stan to stay over and Sheila took him downstairs to borrow the phone to call his parents, leaving Kyle and I alone for the first time that day since we'd woken up.

The moment our eyes met, he seemed to understand what he'd done and clapped a hand to his mouth.

"Aw, Kenny I'm so sorry," he gushed, sweeping over onto the bed and clasping my hands in his. "I kinda forgot...got caught up in revision. Um...tomorrow. Tomorrow it'll just be us two I promise you."

I felt the urge to be spiteful and snap 'forget it', snatching my hands from his and storming home. This kind of act was what was expected of Cartman, and it stunned me how tempted I was by this idea. I was jealous and I knew it, but didn't want to accept it. The desire for Kyle to feel guilty, the need for him to ensure never to make the same mistake made me contemplate this, but one look into his eyes told me how truly sorry he was.

I forgave him and offered to go home to give him and Stan some friend time. Kyle beamed at me and thanked me for being so understanding, leaning in to give me a kiss, the one thing I'd waited all day for, only to pull away last minute because of Stan's thumping feet on the stairs, shortly followed by him bursting into the room saying his parents said he could stay.

When he saw me getting up and getting my things, he frowned. "Aren't you staying, Ken?"

I gave one of Kyle's poor forced smiles. "Nah, my mom wants me home early today."

Stan checked the clock on Kyle's wall just in case he'd read the time wrong. When he saw how late it was, his frown deepened. "Nearly 11 o'clock is early?"

I felt my face heat up. "Yeah, well earlier than usual. I don't get home until one usually 'cos I...um...go to the bar with my dad and pick him up."

This wasn't necessarily a lie; most nights my mom would come in at one or two in the morning and tearfully ask me to get my now disorderly father home. I would comply simply to put her sobs to rest because whenever she cried, I found myself near tears myself and I hated it. Even when I was staying at Kyle's, mom called and asked me to bring him back home so I'd sneak out of bed without Kyle noticing and return some hours later.

"Ah, alright then," Stan said, giving another smile. "See you tomorrow, Kenny. We could study again sometime this week, right?"

I caught Kyle's eye but continued to look at Stan. "Um...I might not be studying again this week but maybe, yeah. See you guys tomorrow."

I gave a little wave and left without giving a hug to either of them. Sheila and Gerald bid me goodnight, asking casually whether or not I was staying the night but not pressing any further when I said no. I couldn't help but look up at Kyle's window when I was outside, snowflakes toppling down on top of me sending violent chills down to my very bones. He was there, looking down at me with his hand pressed against the glass. I raised my hand in a wave and walked away, putting my hood down to catch some flakes in my shaggy blond hair, loving the coolness they brought.

I was dragging my feet the entire walk home, so when I got there it was 12:37am and my mom was already howling at the kitchen table, mascara smudged down her cheeks like war paint, Kevin patting her arm in a not very comforting manner.

When she saw me, she sniffed loudly and gave her eyes one quicker dab with the already spent tissue before thickly saying: "Kenny...you couldn't be a dear and pick up your father, could you? Phil called, and if he isn't out of there soon they'll call the cops on him again and we can't afford bail right now."

I must've been in an awfully foul mood because, once again, I felt like being spiteful and snapping: "No, fuck off, I've been at school all day and you don't even ask how I am". But I didn't, of course. I opened my mouth to protest, I really did, but her watery eyes made my eyes swim and I complied, nodding so some stray flakes of snow drifted from my head. I headed back out and got to the local bar by 12:58am.

Dad was there, slouching over the counter where Phil, the owner, was getting very irritated and asking in a very high pitched voice to leave (for the umpteenth time). Upon seeing me, relief flooded Phil's round features and he let out a loud: "Finally! Get your bum of a dad out of here, Kenny, will you?"

"Who you calling a bum you monkey anus buffoon drinking..." Dad staggered, rising to his feet to point an accusing finger at the barman. "I'll show you that I am worth more than a dime, unlike your whore wife!"

I tugged at his sleeve, feeling highly embarrassed and ashamed, knowing all eyes at the bar were on me and my drunk of a father. It took a half hour but I finally got dad back in his car, and it took a further fifteen minutes to convince him to let me drive. He gave me a fine good slap which left a stinging, prickling mark on my cheek but I ignored it the entire drive home as he went on about how much he regretted having me and that he would've followed his dream and been rich if it wasn't for me and my mother.

Despite feeling so amazing this morning and wanted, I didn't feel that at all tonight...

Thank you for reading. Please review. Song recommendations:

I Never Dreamed Someone Like You – Katie Irving

Almost Lover – A Fine Frenzy

Already Gone – Kelly Clarkson