Hey guys, back with another chapter. I have up to 8 chapters written right now, but I'll space them out unless I get more reviews. Thank you all for the reviews, they help a lot. You are all kind with your inputs. If you liked, please review. Thanks for sticking with me on this one. More to come.

Ch 5

Once the power came back on, Kyle helped patch Stan up.

"Promise you won't hurt yourself again… in any way." Kyle frowned, cleaning up the blood from Stan's forehead.

Stan didn't respond, only looking down at the tiled floor of the kitchen. They sat at the dining room table, Kyle dabbing a wet washcloth to clear the blood away.

"You just said that to pity me."

Kyle looked up at his friend.

"No, I didn't."

Kyle didn't know how he was feeling about the situation, in truth. He didn't want to see Stan hurt. He was his best friend.

"Uhh, there." Kyle said, dabbing the last of the blood from Stan's forehead.

"You just said that to make me stop."

Kyle fell silent.

That's somewhat true. He hated to admit that.

"You're with Wendy, Stan." Kyle's thoughts made themselves vocal, and he tried to stop them from escaping, but failed.

Stan was silent.

Stan pulled his hat back on and moved off of the wooden chair he was seated on.

"You can just say no, Kyle."

"Stan, I said I had the same feelings for you."

"I can read you like an open book, Kyle. You are very easy to read. You don't have to lie. It makes things worse."

Stan moved to the living room, plopping down on the couch.

"I'm not lying, Stan."

Kyle sat next to him, and grabbed his hand.

"You're my best friend, Stan. And if you want to be more than that, we can try. I'll do it. I don't care what Cartman thinks, or Kenny thinks, or even Wendy thinks. I don't care about what anyone thinks."

You're doing this so he won't hurt himself anymore.

No, I'm not.

Admit it, you are.

"How long have you felt this way, Stan?" Kyle inquired, pushing his negative thoughts to the side.

Stan continued to look down.

"A long time."

It seemed the words were hard to grasp for him, like he didn't want to believe them himself.

"It's not right." Stan whispered, hopping off of the couch, and began pacing the room.

Kyle frowned.

Kyle walked up to his friend and wrapped his arms around him.

"Like I said, we can try."

It was Monday. All sore feelings between Stan and Kyle had evaporated.

The two boys stood at the bus stop as Cartman and Kenny strolled up beside them. The snow was still on the ground, iced over and slick. It crunched under their feet.

"What's going on, fags?"

"Shut up, Cartman." Kyle retorted.

"You owe us ten dollars, fat ass." Stan said, holding out his outstretched arm and beckoned for the money to be put in his hand.

"Nuh uh. It doesn't count since the power went out."

"Yes it does fat ass, now cough up the money."

"Fuck you guys." Cartman growled, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a ten.

"I just got this ten too." Cartman grumbled.

"Learn not to make bets then, retard!" Kyle retorted.

"What the hell happened to your forehead, Stan?" Cartman asked, raising an eyebrow. The raven-haired boy didn't reply so Kyle took over.

"He had a little mishap and uhh… fell down the stairs."

Cartman laughed. It was that irritating laugh that could make your ears bleed. "Hahahaha! You're so dumb, dude!"

Stan didn't bother retorting, and this annoyed Cartman. He grumbled and then fell silent.

The four boys stood in silence as the bus rolled up to the stop. The snow crunched underneath the wheels.

They boarded the bus and made their way to their usual seats.

Stan and Kyle sat next to each other and Kenny and Cartman sat adjacent.

"I wish we had a snowday today, dude. We could have spent more time together." Kyle whispered to Stan.

"Yea." Was all Stan said.

His head was throbbing painfully, and his hat barely covered the large bruise on his forehead. He wanted to put a bandage on it, but that would just look stupid.

Kyle inched closer.

"I know it's only Monday, but do you want to hang out again this weekend?"

"Y-yeah… that'd be awesome, dude." Stan replied, smiling a little.

"You okay, dude?"

"Yeah, my head just hurts a little."

Kyle nudged him and offered his hand. Stan took it hesitantly. He made it so no one could see them holding hands. He didn't want any drama between Cartman or anyone else.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of the elementary school. Students got off and some got on. Stan and Kyle walked to the front as Kenny and Cartman trailed behind. Kyle quickly let go of Stan's hand.

Kyle met Stan at his locker after he had collected his books from his own.

"How's your head feeling?" Kyle asked his friend, peering at it for a moment.

"Still hurts like hell…"

"What did you tell your parents when they saw the bruise?"

"They didn't notice." Stan said plainly.

"It's not exactly invisible, dude."

"Well, sometimes I feel invisible."

Kyle frowned. He made sure no one was looking and reached over and grabbed Stan's hand. It felt awkward and forced.

Stan smiled slightly. Kyle hated his friend looking this miserable.

Stan closed his locker with his free hand. He jumped when he saw Wendy standing behind it.

"W-Wendy, hey."

Kyle quickly pulled his hand away and dropped his books to distract Wendy.

"Oops, a little clumsy today, heheh…"

He picked them up and started to head to class.

"See you in a little, Kyle. I'll be right there."

Kyle nodded and entered the classroom.

"Were you holding Kyle's hand, Stan?"

"What? No!"

"I just saw you two. What happened to your forehead?"

"I fell down the stairs."

"You 'fell down the stairs'?"

"Yeah, when the blackout happened, I was walking up the stairs and-"

"You just told me you fell down the stairs."

"I did?"

Wendy shut her own locker and lifted an eyebrow.

"Stan, are you lying to me again? Why were you holding hands with Kyle?"

"He was handing me something."

"Handing you what?"

"Handing me some lunch money. I don't have any for today."

Smooth.

The bell rang, reverberating down the silent halls. All of the rest of the students had gone to class. Stan and Wendy were the only ones in the hall.

"Let's go, we're late." Stan said, avoiding the question. He wanted Wendy out of this and anyone else if possible. Especially Wendy and Cartman.

Stan sat in his usual seat next to Kyle and Mr. Garrison watched him as he made his way to his seat.

"Stan, how nice of your to join us. You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Is there a reason?"

"I was talking to Wendy."

Mr. Garrison looked from Wendy to Stan.

"Alright…" He drew out the word slowly.

"Well, would you like to explain to me these problems on the board, Wendy?"

Everything was drowned out as Mr. Garrison droned on about math and the importance of it, and Stan zoned out. His head was throbbing worse now, and he felt like he needed to pass out. Stan couldn't take it anymore. He needed to talk to someone about this.

"Mr. Garrison, may I go to the counselor's office?" Stan asked, interrupting his teacher in the middle of a lecture.

He stopped midsentence.

"Yes, Stanley, go on ahead."

Kyle looked helplessly at his friend as he walked out the door.

"Mr. Mackey, Can I talk to you?" Stan opened the door when a short "yes, mkaay" was heard.

"Oh, Stan, come one in. Haven't seen you in a few weeks."

"Yeah."

"How are you doing?"

"How do you think? I wouldn't be in here if I felt ok."

"Mkaay… tell me how you're feeling."

Stan lifted off his hat, showing Mr. Mackey the bruise on his forehead. Mr. Mackey frowned.

"How did this happen, Stanley?"

"Me."

"You what?"

"I did it."

"You did this to yourself? Mkaay… hold on a second…"

Mr. Mackey picked up the phone on his desk and proceeded to call someone. He turned and faced away from Stan.

"Yes, nurse, this is Mr. Mackey down at the school counselor's office, mkaay… I have Stan Marsh here, he says he hurt his head, he won't tell me why, I just need you to come down and check it out for me. Mkaay, thank you."

Mr. Mackey hung up the phone.

"When the nurse gets here, I need you to tell her what happened."

"'Kay."

Stan and Mr. Mackey sat in silence as the fan whirred in the corner of the room. Stan looked down and started to count how many tiles there were on the ground. He got to thirty when the nurse walked in.

"Hi, Stanley. I'm the school nurse. What can I help you with?"

"I hurt my head."

"I see… how did you hurt your head?"

"I hurt my head." Stan emphasized the "I".

"Did you do it on purpose, Stanley?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do it?"

"Because I deserved it."

The nurse beckoned Stan to take off his hat so she could take a better look. After a short while, the nurse frowned.

"We need to call your parents about this."

"No! Please don't!"

"I'm sorry, Stanley, this has to be reported."

"I'll tell you why, just please don't tell anyone else. It's important that my parents don't know."