Back with another chapter, Hope you guys like this one. Sorry it's so short. Thank you all for the reviews, I'll try my best to reply to them. I will post the new chapter at 20 reviews. If you liked, please review, I love feedback and ideas that I can maybe incorporate in later chapters. Input helps me continue the story. Thanks again, guys.

Ch 7

There was a knock at Kyle's door. It was snowing again, lightly dusting the ground over the piles of snow that still remained.

Kyle opened the door.

Stan stood in the threshold, sniffing.

"H-hey…" was all he said. He looked terrible, his hat about to fall off, hair in disarray underneath it, a half concealed panicked look on his face.

"Dude, what's wrong? C-come inside…" Kyle beckoned his friend in, placing a hand on his back and shutting the door behind him. Snow dusted Stan's shoulders, and he shrugged it off, patting the rest of the snow off of his body.

"C-can I…" Stan started, and worry was evident on Kyle's face.

"…Stay here tonight?" Stan finished.

"Sure dude, why? Did something happen?"

Stan looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"Mr. Mackey ratted me out and told my parents everything I told him and the school nurse." Stan felt a lump in his throat.

Everything.

"And my dad, he found… the alcohol. He got very angry… and he…" Stan couldn't finish his sentence without sniffing. He held back tears. He didn't want to show any more weakness in front of Kyle.

"…He told me to find somewhere else to stay tonight. He doesn't know what to do with me right now."

"Stan…" Kyle frowned. "You can stay here tonight. I'll go talk to my parents about you staying."

"Thank you, Kyle…"

Kyle nodded.

"Kyle, I don't think it's such a good idea for him to stay over on a school night, bubbie. How about over the weekend again instead?" Stan overheard Mrs. Broflovski say from the kitchen. Her voice got louder as the two moved to the living room.

"But look at him! He needs somewhere to stay." Kyle argued defiantly.

"Oh, Stanley, what happened to you? And your forehead?" Mrs. Broflovski exclaimed, looking Stan up and down.

I wish my hat covered up my forehead better. Stan sighed inwardly.

"I'm sorry to just barge in like this… I-I can leave." Stan began to turn towards the door.

"No, it's fine. You can stay the night, as long as your parents say it's okay."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine. They kicked me out for the night, anyways."

"What?" Kyle's mother was in shock.

"I did something bad… really bad."

"It couldn't have been that bad, hon."

"Trust me, it was."

Kyle frowned.

"Let's at least get you changed into something warmer and more comfortable. You can borrow a pair of my pajamas." Kyle forced a smile.

"Thanks. And thank you, Mrs. Broflovski for letting me stay for the night."

"You're welcome, dear."

After Stan changed into a pair of Kyle's old pajamas, the two sat on Kyle's bed, conversing.

"How's your head feeling?"

"Why do you always ask me that, Kyle?"

"Because I care, Stan."

The bruise had welled in size, the cut still oozing blood every now and then.

"It hurts. A lot."

Kyle frowned.

"You wanted the truth."

"I'll be back."

Kyle hopped off the bed, and when he returned, he held a wet dishcloth in his hand.

"Here," he said, inching toward Stan. "This should help." He began dabbing the dishcloth on the bruise and cut. Stan winced.

"I can do it myself, Kyle."

"Oh… here."

Kyle handed him the cloth.

Once Stan had removed all of the new blood that had oozed to the surface, he handed the cloth back to Kyle.

"T-thanks… for helping me. And caring." Stan smiled slightly.

"What are friends for?" Kyle replied, throwing the cloth in his dirty clothes pile.

Kyle returned the smile. "Best friends."

"Super best friends." Stan added.

Kyle had fallen asleep on the bed, Stan still awake. He sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating.

No, stop it. I need to quit.

You know you need it. It helps you sleep. You haven't gone without it before.

I do need it, but…

Kyle rolled onto his side, kicking the sheet off of himself. He groaned in his sleep.

Stan noticed he was a heavy, messy sleeper. He laughed inwardly.

No, you aren't allowed to feel happy. You aren't allowed to laugh. You deserve pain for what you feel.

You're right.

"I need it…" Stan whispered aloud. He clinched and unclenched his fist.

"S-Stan?"

Kyle rubbed his eyes.

"Stan, are you still awake?"

The lamp light cast a shadow on the wall as Kyle sat up.

"What's wrong?" Kyle asked, when his friend didn't answer.

"I need it, Kyle."

"Need what, Stan?"

"It."

Kyle frowned, understanding what Stan meant. He knew he was going through withdrawal.

Stan was shaking.

"Stan, are you al-" Kyle began, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm sorry, I just want to help you-"

"Well, I don't need any help!"

"Stan, please be quiet, you'll wake up my parents and-"

"I don't give a damn, Kyle!"

"Shhhh! I'll help you through this, just please calm down!"

"Fuck you!"

Stan hopped off of the bed and began pacing the room.

Stan finally broke down after three minutes of pacing the bedroom floor.

He dropped to his knees and sobbed.

"God, I need it so badly, Kyle…" he said between sobs.

Why did he have to get himself into this at such a young age?

"Stan, it's going to be okay…" Kyle said, hopping down from the bed and wrapping his arms around his distraught friend. "Is this okay? Can I hug you?"

Stan didn't fight it.

Stan sobbed into Kyle's chest, holding around his torso, Kyle hardly able to breathe.

"I-I'm S-sorry, K-Kyle." Stan's body shook violently between sobs, and Kyle frowned, worry aching in his body.

After about ten minutes, Stan's sobs started to subside.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, Stan." Kyle finally said after Stan had stopped crying completely.

"I'm such a terrible friend."

"Why do you say that, Stan?"

"Because I dragged you into my problems."

Stan looked up at his friend, bleary eyed.

"I'm here to help you."

"I don't need help."

Kyle sighed. "Yes, you do." He said carefully.

Stan's face contorted into a look of anger.

Kyle, shut the fuck up. Kyle cursed himself.

"So are we just going to ignore this, or what?"

"Ignore what, Stan?"

"My feelings for you, Kyle. I need to get rid of them."

Kyle said nothing, frowning.

"That's why I drink. If I drink enough, maybe I can forget."

"That's not how it works."

"Well, I grasp onto the hope that it one day will."