Kenny's POV

April 16th

Over two weeks ago now, Stan had offered Kyle and I to attend his basketball match, show some support, be it comfort or praising. Of course, the both of us agreed. It seemed like the perfect opportunity for Kyle and me to spend some more time together, as well as have Stan involved. I couldn't help but wonder if he felt more left out than he let on, though whenever I suggested this he blushed and shook his head, assuring me that this was false. I hoped so, because I was so happy right now and I didn't want the price of my happiness to be Stan being left out.

Kyle had been acting odd as of late; it all seemed to go wrong on my birthday, March 22nd. I had insisted that I wanted nothing big done, because there was nothing I hated more than intense attention that was directed solely on me. He had been reluctant not to throw me a party, and had even asked Sheila to try to give me a little nudge by offering to throw it at their house. I had, again, politely refused and so, instead, it was just a day spent between Stan, Kyle and me. Cartman had joined in a little bit too, but he also seemed off too for unknown reasons. He was quieter than usual and didn't seem to rip on everyone as much; even Kyle had admitted that he kind of missed the old Cartman. The day had gone by without so much as a hiccup, it was nice and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

It just felt so sudden; like two flips of a coin. For a moment I thought I was looking at Kyle's smiling face, eyes alight and hand clasped in my own and, despite Cartman's faking-coughing the word 'fags' every few seconds, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Then the next moment his hand was at his side and he was looking distant, lost, and he asked if I could back off for a bit. It was odd; never before, so far in the relationship, had he told me to leave him alone. That was the loneliest feeling in the world, that I wasn't even capable of bringing comfort to my own boyfriend. That was all I wanted, to give him comfort when he felt down, to be the reason he laughed, to be the one to kiss his tears away, to be the one he'd think of whenever he needed me be it good or bad. To imagine him not needing me, made my bones turn to icy cold milk that gushed down my spine down to the heels of my feet, leaving me trembling and naked.

Kyle had apologised straight afterwards, but his features weren't the same. Different words and emotions had been written all of his face, and I couldn't make out what he was trying to say despite everything sitting plainly on his face. Things had been a bit awkward since then; I didn't stay over as much, and whenever I did we didn't do anything spectacular anymore. The worst had been the other weekend, when I'd stayed over. He'd been a tad funny about inviting me over, saying "Only if you want to, Kenny" while I was left thinking 'Of course I want to...why wouldn't I? Don't you want me to?' We'd sat on his sofa for a majority of the night, watching the television and sharing a KFC bucket between us. I had my legs on his lap but whenever someone entered the room, he made me move my legs away although we'd always been comfortable with showing affection publically, even in front of his parents. Even when everyone else had gone to bed, he didn't lie across my chest like he usually did whenever we watched a film, and he didn't react to any kisses I gave him. Usually, a kiss on the forehead or cheek would make him turn around to meet our lips but that time, he didn't do that.

When the shitty movie had finished, he'd gotten to his feet immediately and muttered something about being tired. I bound to my feet and wrapped my arms tightly around him. He didn't hold me back for a few seconds but, after around a minute, his arms wound around my waist the way they usually did, awkwardly though like the stiff arms of a plastic doll. I stared at our reflection in the mirror, wondering what I'd done wrong, wondering if this was the end...if everything had dimmed.

Things had improved a little since then, and he began to stumble back on how he used to act around me. He just seemed reserved now, like he was hiding something and that made me worry. So maybe, just maybe, this basketball game, no matter how trivial it seemed, would loosen the both of us up and would make us focus on Stan rather than our deflating relationship. But even going to the game, seemed to give Kyle second thoughts.

"Do we have to go to that, Kenny?" he asked me that afternoon, just twelve minutes before we could be allowed inside the gym. We were standing out in the corridor just by the boys' changing rooms, accompanied by a few parents and friends of other players. Cartman was also there, but we ignored him like we usually did. His fake-cough really was getting worse; he started to cough 'butt-fucker', 'ass-rammer' and 'cock-sucker' now. It had crossed my mind for a flitting second whether it was Cartman's remarks that were upsetting Kyle but then I remembered that Kyle couldn't give two fucks about what Eric Cartman thought.

"Hey, we're here now," I said, trying to act casual despite his question making my heart skip a few beats. "Plus, we promised Stan."

Kyle exhaled heavily, wringing his rarely un-gloved hands. "I know, I know...sorry. I'm just tired is all."

I couldn't see why; he'd fallen asleep at 9:30pm again last night. I had lain awake at his side for a good five hours after that, watching his back as he slept, feeling that cold worm of rejection wriggling in my gut. I'd left for an hour or two just to walk around the street, trying to get my head straight (figures). When I'd gotten back, he hadn't even stirred, like he hadn't noticed my absence one little bit. It bugged me that he didn't seem to care whether I was there or not; like he couldn't sense me anymore.

I reached out and tied our pinky fingers together the way I did whenever I was unsure whether to hold his hand or not. He caught my eyes, swallowed and then gave a faint half smile, giving my pinky a tiny squeeze.

"Ho-ho-homosexuals," Cartman choked right down my ear, giving a few belching coughs afterwards, thumping his chest. "Excuse me!"

"Wish we could, fat ass," Kyle breathed. "If only we could."

I giggled and Kyle's weak smile turned into a grin, taking my entire hand in his and swinging them a little back and forth. My body felt like a cave, and when he did that a trillion hidden diamonds shone within me, electrifying me with their beauty and amount. I was grateful for Stan inviting us; this could turn our relationship back in the right direction. I made a mental note to hug Stan so hard for this.

"You may enter the hall now," the oddly obese P.E teacher, Miss Maxine, said as she opened the doors for us to pass through. "Show me your ticket and remember, no paying at the door. Please wait quietly while you wait for the match to begin. Enjoy."

Kyle, Cartman and me showed the tickets Stan had given us and took our assigned seats at the row directly in the middle. I sat in the middle with Kyle on my right and Cartman on our left. We hadn't even sat down for more than two minutes before Cartman had started grumbling about how hungry he was and asking for the time. When I reported that we still had sixteen minutes, he threw a strop and muttered something about going to get some candy, barking at a pair of girls to get out of his way (of course he wasn't so polite about this, calling them bitches and asking them to get the fuck out of here, what were they doing at a sports event anyway and that they should get back to the kitchen). Kyle rolled his eyes as I apologised to the girls for his behaviour.

"Don't bother apologising for him, Kenny," Kyle said quietly. "We've been apologising for that fat fuck since kindergarten."

I considered Kyle for a moment, thinking about retaking his hand that I'd let go while I showed the tickets to Miss Maxine. I didn't know what he'd think about it though; we hadn't been exactly open about our relationship at school. Only his family, Stan and Cartman knew; a few people have speculated about it, including my mom who straight out asked me (there we go with the straight thing again). But whenever people asked, we always said no because we didn't want anyone heckling us. We didn't want to be like Al and Mr. Slave who eventually had to leave town due to the comments and, on some occasions, acts of violence and vandalism. We didn't want to be the new gay couple; in fact I don't think either of us wanted to be thought of as gay at all. Just...together...romantically involved...in love.

"EXCUSE ME FAT BITCH!"

Cartman's boorish exclamation brought me back down from the cloud of thought that I'd momentarily floated up to. He was shouting at Wendy Tetsaburger, who had been mounting the steps, looking at her ticket to work out where her seat was. Wendy had probably also been invited by Stan; the both of them had broken up last fall for good it seemed this time but they remained good friends. It was painfully obvious to everyone that she still had feelings for him, though for unknown reasons she wasn't acting on them...at least, in our knowledge she wasn't.

"Don't make me kick your ass again, you piece of shit," Wendy retorted, her cheeks turning red as everyone in the gym glanced at the scene.

"Whatever, I let you win," Cartman said, although he lost some of his cockiness and backed down, sitting back down next to me, keeping his head down.

Thinking of it, I wonder why Stan and Wendy had broken up. They had seemed to finally take their relationship seriously, not just saying they were together but not really acting on it. Their relationship had matured with them, and, for a while, we could imagine them getting married young and being high school sweet hearts forever. Then, all of a sudden, they kept their distance from one another and Stan clarified that they had broken up for good this time. Whenever we asked for a reason, he would always shake it off and claim that it was none of our business.

The hall erupted with applause. I blinked and Stan was there, filing out with the rest of the South Park High team, standing a good four inches shorter than the rest of his teammates. He grinned up at us and gave a ginger wave; we returned with a cheer, claps and an 'Alright Stan!' The game was a blur after that. I was just focused on other things; well to be specific relationships. They were strange things, from the outside they seem like the most desirable thing in the world and when you see a couple together, you can rarely see the cracks. When you're on the outside, it's a shock when a couple breaks up because you're stunned there were cracks in the first place, because you had once yearned to be in a relationship like theirs. For years, I had envied Wendy and Stan's relationship, wanted one for myself, but now I was in one, I understood the strain. Everything is about compromise, no matter how much you look at it. I had to compromise everything to be with Kyle, and at some point I have to wonder if it's worth it. If all the things I'm giving up, and all the things I'm trying are going to do any good in the long run. Would Kyle and I being together ruin things for me? Like relationships with friends and family. Was Kyle worth all of that? Was it worth taking a gamble, playing with my own heart and emotions, and get absolutely nothing in return if something goes wrong? Because, to be honest, if we broke up I would have nothing left.

Was he worth all of that?

"Kenny?"

I turned my head and realised I'd been staring blankly up at the ceiling for God knows how long. Kyle's green eyes were scanning mine, and his hand was on my arm from where he must've been shaking or tapping me only to be ignored. And then, with one big jolt in my chest, I knew.

"Ken, you okay?" Kyle whispered. "What you thinking about?"

"Nothing," I assured him, putting my hand over his and locking our fingers together.

Satisfied with my answer, he turned back to the game, his mouth making an 'o' shape as Stan dropped the ball and it was snatched by the opposing team. Whilst the audience groaned, I stared at him. My boyfriend. And I knew. Yes, Kyle was worth all of that. Every single bit of it...

000

Cartman and I were waiting outside on the bench at 10:56pm for Kyle and Stan to come out and meet us. Stan's team had lost and Kyle and I were set on being comforting and encouraging, but I had to wait outside with Cartman because he couldn't stop laughing. In order to spare Stan any further humiliation, I was to keep an eye on Cartman outside while Kyle tried to make Stan feel better. Cartman was still chuckling.

"Dude, Stan's team sucked ass!" he enthused mid-snort. "Oh man that was hilarious. I'd eat my left nut to see that again. He gave the ball to the other team what, like seventeen times? That was fucking awesome!"

"Lay off, alright?" I tried again to calm him down so that when Stan came out his self-esteem wouldn't take another dive. "I know Stan didn't play to...to his best tonight but that other team cheated a hell of a lot. If Stan was a bit taller then maybe..."

"Taller, black and could catch a ball," Cartman cut me off, freefalling back into hysteria as he banged his fists on the bench, kicking his legs as he laughed. I frowned at him although I could feel my lips twitch. Whenever I saw him act like that, it made me want to laugh too no matter what the situation was. It had been like that since we were kids.

When Kyle and Stan had emerged, Cartman was pretending to be Stan, acting dumbly and clumsily, staggering with a glazed look in his eyes. Whenever he'd lose the imaginary ball, Cartman would make a low, droning noise that went like: "Dahooo...wuh?" I had to try to avert my eyes to avoid crumbling into giggles. Stan's face fell upon seeing Cartman and Kyle's eyebrows immediately furrowed into a deep set frown. I mentally pleaded with Cartman to stop, for his own sake as well as Stan's.

"Alright, that does it you asshole!" Kyle snapped, storming over with full intent on beating the shit out of Cartman. I stepped up before he could and held him back, whispering a mantra of 'don't give him the satisfaction'. Cartman quietened at Stan and Kyle's presence, but his grin still remained, slipping but there.

"Kyle, you'll only encourage him," I murmured, gently pushing Kyle back towards a glum looking Stan.

"Get rid of him, Kenny," Kyle said through gritted teeth, putting an arm around Stan's shoulders and leading him away.

I understood why Kyle was upset but was he really that surprised? Had all those years of putting up with Cartman's relentless torments escaped his mind somehow? Of course Cartman would react that way; he did whenever someone else's misery had the misfortune of playing before him. But, no matter what, I was going to stick by Kyle so I did as I was told.

"Damn, Ken, better listen to your Jew bitch!" Cartman jeered, raising the volume so it would reach Kyle's ears. "He might make you bottom next time." I blushed a little since I was bottom all of the four times Kyle and I had done it. Cartman must've noticed because he exploded with laughter. "Ha-ha-ha! Kenneh, all mah life I never imagined you to take it in the ass! Ha-ha-ha! You bottom to Kyle!"

And just like that, I understood how Kyle's memory had slipped. Just like that, I began to wonder why Cartman would treat a friend in such an appalling way. I forgot that he'd taken everyone's private information since we were toddlers and had thrown it out for everyone else to see. When I had wet my pants in kindergarten and had to wear the spare set, Cartman had pointed it out to everyone. I had been so embarrassed...so humiliated. He'd taunted Kyle for years with hateful comments about his faith, about his family, about just about everything about him. So, I did what I felt I needed to.

I punched Eric Cartman square in the nose. I felt the ripple of the impact under my fist, heard the crunch like the sound of my shoes in the snow that I had walked on all my life. I blinked for a moment, stunned at myself as Cartman held his bleeding nose. His eyes filled with tears as he clutched it, sniffing and whimpering like a child would after being smacked, acting surprised after all of the warnings and chances. Then he began to wail and I felt that pang of guilt but, for the first time ever, I didn't act on it. I turned away from him, tucked my hands in my pockets, pulled my hood over my head and walked in the same direction Kyle and Stan had. Last I heard of Cartman was:

"I'll get you Kenneh! You better watch your poor faggot ass from now on!"

000

"You...you did what?"

"I punched Cartman in the face..."

Kyle olive eyes widened and stayed that way for a while, just staring directly back into mine, swivelling slightly as if he was reading something I could not see, something that would tell him if what I was telling him was true or false. The answer must've been true, since he took my hand in his and turned his gaze away from me, studying the multiple grazes on my knuckles that had started to sting and bleed.

"Come inside..." he said flatly. "Let's clean you up..."

I began to panic as I sank down at the foot of his bed whilst he busied himself in his bathroom, running a tissue under a tap of cold water. Was he angry at me? Disappointed? Pleased? Proud? Concerned? Whichever it was, I wanted to know desperately because I couldn't tell which one it was. Even when he returned, he didn't meet my eyes even though he must've felt me watching him intently.

"Kyle, are you..." I started.

"Hold still," Kyle hushed me, taking my hand. He snatched one glance up at me. "Tell me to stop if it hurts."

To be honest, it did hurt. The grazes stung like fuck, but I didn't complain. I just chewed on my bottom lip as Kyle brushed the wet tissue against my knuckles, pressing tenderly on the worst one. I hissed a little, making him stop for a moment and mumble a 'sorry' before continuing. I took from this demonstration of caring that he wasn't pissed off at me; if he was, he would have told me to go home or told me straight out that he wasn't exactly thrilled at my act of violence. He worked silently, with a 'sorry' and 'hold still' here and there. I obeyed, sitting stock still and clenching my teeth through the sizzling stings and the violent chills that vibrated my form because of the freezing cold water.

The tissue had turned tough now and had turned dry, only giving two trickles of water if Kyle squeezed it. He checked my hand to see it wasn't bleeding so much anymore and seemed satisfied with the result. He rose and dumped the tissue in the bin, drying his hands on his jeans. Since he had no reason to stop me now, I decided to try again.

"Kyle, are you angry with me?" I said slowly, busying myself by gazing down at my lap.

Kyle didn't answer for a while and I began to fear that the answer was yes. I bit down on my bottom lip harder to restrain myself from asking again or saying something idiotic.

"No...Ken, I'm not mad at you," he replied, his words distanced as if he was thinking about everything he said. He didn't elaborate or explain any further.

"Then...what's up?" I pressed, daring to turn my head upward to meet his gaze.

He seemed at a loss, opening his mouth but then closing it, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. His cheeks were pink and hugged himself, lifting his shoulders. "Kenny..." a deep sigh. "I can't be with you anymore..."

Thank you for reading. Please review; next chapter will be uploaded this week.