Back with another chapter. Hope you all like this one. Please review if you liked it, it helps me get motivated to write more chapters. I appreciate all of your guys' reviews, you have all been so nice. Thanks again.

Ch 6

"I've been… drinking lately." Stan admitted after a few agonizing moments.

There was silence for a few seconds before Mr. Mackey spoke.

"Is there any particular reason you've been doing it, Stanley?"

"Yeah… there's one reason."

"And what's that?" asked the school nurse.

"I like someone. Like, as in I have a crush. I guess it's a crush. I really don't know."

"Who is it? And why is this troubling you so badly, mkaay?" asked Mr. Mackey.

"It's…" Stan paused, a lump in his throat.

"My friend, Kyle." He drew out the words, burying his face in his hands.

"I don't know why I feel this way," Stan began again when no one else spoke. "I just… do. And I hate it. It's not normal. I'm with Wendy, but I've never actually liked her in any way besides a friend. I tried liking her more than a friend. I really did. I just wanted to be normal, like all the other boys. The thought of kissing her makes me want to throw up. And I told Kyle my feelings… I don't think he's cool with it. I've known him long enough to know when he is lying, or avoiding telling his thoughts. He just pities me."

"And that's also why I hurt myself…"

The school nurse took a look at Stan's forehead again.

"I'm sorry Stanley; we have to report this to your parents." She said.

"No, please! I don't want them to know! I've been so good at keeping it a secret… I should have never come here in the first place!" Stan hopped up from his chair and began walking towards the door. Mr. Mackey blocked it.

"I can't let you leave, Stanley."

"Please don't tell them… please… I feel so much better once I told someone; just let me go back to class…" Stan lied. He didn't feel any better. He felt terrible. Worse, if anything.

Tears began to well in Stan's eyes.

"Please just let me go."

After a few moments, Mr. Mackey moved away from the door.

"Alright, Stanley. I'll let you go for now. Come into my office after school. I want to talk to you more. I don't want you to miss any more class time, mkaay? It's already been half an hour."

Stan nodded, turning towards the door.

"And one more thing, Stanley,"

"Yes?"

"Hang in there."

"…'kay."

And with that, Stan left.

"What happened, dude?" Kyle's curiosity got the best of him when Stan sat back down beside his friend.

"We just… talked."

"Oh."

"I have to go in after school and talk to Mr. Mackey and the nurse again."

"Stanley, Is it that important that you have to interrupt my class again?" Mr. Garrison cut in.

"Sorry." Stan shrunk back in his seat.

Kyle scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Stan from under his desk.

How's your forehead?

Fine.

What did you have to talk about in there?

…Stuff.

Kyle gave up. He knew Stan wouldn't budge.

The bell rang. All of the students flooded out of the classroom and into the halls.

"Stanley, can I talk to you for a moment?" Mr. Garrison gestured Stan over to his desk. Kyle looked at Stan and frowned, lingered for a moment, and then left.

"Are you doing alright? You seem more down lately. And..." Mr. Garrison peered at Stan's bruised forehead. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Yes, I do mind you asking. It's none of your business, alright?"

Stan walked up to the classroom door and into the halls, brows furrowed.

Why won't people just leave me alone?

It was the last hour of the day. The bell rang, and the students dispersed. Stan walked to Mr. Mackey's room, took a short breath, and knocked on the door.

"Yes, come in."

Stan opened the door.

"Have a seat, Stanley."

Stan sat down.

The school nurse was in the corner of the room, clipboard in hand.

"Now, I want to let you know that this is a safe environment. We don't judge here. You can say anything you need to, and we will listen. Now Ms. Nurse here will be taking notes, and we will come up with a plan, mkaay?" Mr. Mackey explained.

Stan shrugged. "I already told you everything you needed to know."

"Now, where did you get the alcohol, Stanley?" Mr. Mackey asked.

Stan's heart was beating painfully in his chest. "U-uh, from my dad's liquor cabinet. They never notice anything ever gone. They don't even notice when I'm gone." Stan didn't want to explain where he got the first bottle, with all the confusing AI and matrix bullshit that went down a few weeks earlier.

"Mkay…"

The nurse jotted down a few notes.

"This concerns me, Stan." Mr. Mackey said.

Stan looked down. He knew there was no turning back now. He had dug himself a hole he couldn't get out of.

"Stanley, how much do you drink a day, mkaay?"

"I-I don't know… maybe one glass before bed. It helps me sleep. If I drink enough, I pass out." Stan lied about how much he had been drinking. He would take just enough in the morning to almost get drunk, but not quite. And at night, he would drink two glasses, pass out, and wake up with an enormous headache. And the cycle repeated.

The nurse continued to scribble on her notepad, a concerned look on her face.

"But I also have a little before school sometimes," Stan continued. "It helps me wake up."

Mr. Mackey nodded, his concern evident on his face.

"Now, this thing with Kyle. You say you like him more than just a friend? Is that what makes you do this? You think it's not right and you should punish yourself because of it?"

Stan's face heated up. "Y-yeah… that's right."

"Well, you know what Stan, mkaay?"

"What?"

"It's alright to like him in that way. If that's what makes you happy, feel comfortable, then-"

Stan cut in. "Do I look happy or comfortable? It's tearing me apart!"

"Now, it's alright Stanley, just calm down, mkayy."

"No, listen to me! If my parents found out about… this, they would disown me. If Cartman and Kenny and everyone else found out about this, they would hate me. I have a feeling Kyle already thinks I'm a freak."

Cartman lingered in the halls for a little longer to grab his books out of his locker. The halls were silent. Cartman shut his locker, thinking he heard his name. "Huh?"

It was coming from the school counselor's office. Now Cartman deemed this interesting.

He pressed his ear up against the door and stuck out his tongue.

"I don't want anyone to know about this. Please, just keep it inside this office. It's between Kyle and me to figure out." Came a muffled voice from inside the room.

Cartman became curious. What could Stan (he'd recognize that voice anywhere) be talking about?

Like a gift from god, Cartman got his answer.

"I hate being this way… I want to like girls, I want to be normal… but instead I have a crush on my best friend. And that is why I punish myself."

That was the end of Stan's explanation.

"Son of a bitch…" Cartman cursed. Then suddenly realization. A light bulb went off in Cartman's mind, a sly smile creeping on his lips. He now had the dirt on Stan, and he could use it to blackmail him. This was perfect.

Cartman rushed through the school and out to the chilly Colorado air. He panted, just in time for the bus as it rolled into view. Stan followed close behind, but didn't notice Cartman until he strolled up beside him.

Kyle smiled as Stan approached.

"Hey, dude."

"Hey."

Cartman tried to contain himself, ready to burst and spill his secrets for everyone to hear.

"How did the talk-" Kyle began but Stan cut him off. He mouthed the words "Please don't say anything" and frowned. "Uhh, with Mr. Garrison about the assignment on Friday? Yeah, he said we could work together."

"Oh, great, dude!" Kyle played along.

Cartman tried to contain a snicker but failed.

"What are you laughing about, fat ass?" Stan cut in.

"Oh, nothing, fags." He emphasized the word.

Kyle was about to retort when Stan grabbed his arm.

"Come on, people are already boarding the bus."

When Stan got home, he tossed his school bag on the floor. He didn't even care if his mom got angry. He just wanted to go to his room and pass out.

"Stanley, get over here, now!" Stan heard his father in the kitchen, and his heart leapt. He didn't seem too happy.

He thought it was because he left his room a mess last night, when he was supposed to pick it up.

Stan walked into the kitchen to be confronted by his Mother and Father.

Stan swallowed hard when he saw a familiar bottle on the kitchen table.

"What is this?" Randy asked, shaking the half empty bottle in his hand, its contents sloshing about.

"U-uh…" Stan began, looking down.

"Your mother and I found it in one of your drawers. Care to explain?"

"I was just-" Stan began, but his father cut him off.

"Why are you drinking, Stan? And how long have you been drinking?"

"I don't want to tell you."

Randy slammed the bottle down on the table. The table rattled.

"Randy, calm down." Stan's mother whispered, the sour look not leaving her face.

"I-I…" Stan began.

"Oh, by the way, we got a call from the school today. Mr. Mackey said you were in his office."

"Y-yeah, I was, but-"

"'But' nothing!"

"No, wait, don't bother explaining. We know everything."

"O-oh…" was all Stan could say.

Everything.

The word echoed in his mind.