Hey guys, thanks for all the reviews. You are all awesome. Here's chapter 8. Please review if you liked it, it helps me get motivated to write more. Thanks again.

Ch 8

"Are you going back to sleep?" Stan asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"I need to watch you. I want to make sure you don't hurt yourself."

"I'll be fine." In truth, Stan was hurting.

"I'm sleeping over here," Kyle said, moving to a corner of the room by the door. "So you can take the bed."

"That doesn't look very comfortable."

Kyle didn't want to admit that if Stan were to leave the room, he could hear him leave from the corner. He wanted to make sure he would be safe.

Stan frowned.

"At least take this blanket," Stan replied, handing his friend a blanket from the bed. "I don't know why you'd rather sleep over here."

"I want to make sure you're safe and comfortable."

Kyle had finally fallen asleep. He was snoring softly in the corner of the room.

Stan had the itch again.

They probably don't even have any alcohol here.

Worth checking.

I don't want to get caught.

You won't. You've seen a liquor cabinet in the living room. It's locked, but the key is under the mat right next to it. You know it is.

Stan fell into the temptation. It was like a dark void that sucked him in more and more every day. He couldn't pull out of it now. He was too far gone.

He got up quietly, made sure Kyle was still sleeping, and made his way downstairs.

Stan swallowed, made sure no one was awake, and made his way to the cabinet.

He almost bumped into the coffee table.

Shit. Stan cursed inwardly.

There it is. Now all you have to do is unlock it.

Stan checked under the mat.

It is there. He grabbed the key and turned the lock quietly, a short clicking noise heard.

He grabbed a bottle, locked the cabinet back up, and made his way back to the stairs.

The lights flickered on.

"I knew it!"

Kyle stood at the base of the stairs, glaring.

"Give me that!"

"Shhh, Kyle-"

Kyle lunged for the bottle. He missed.

"Please, you don't understand how much I need this-" Stan started.

"You're addicted, Stan! You don't need it, you want it!"

"No, I need it!"

Kyle leapt for the bottle again. This time, it almost crashed to the ground.

"Please, just a little. Just enough to help me sleep." Stan pleaded.

"No!"

Footsteps sounded from upstairs.

"You woke up my parents, Stan!" Kyle hissed.

"I did? You're the one yelling!" Stan retorted quietly.

"Up the stairs! Now!"

The two made their way upstairs quickly, and rushed into Kyle's room, closing the door quietly.

"Give me that!" Kyle repeated quietly, his voice barely a whisper. He panted.

"No." Stan hugged the bottle close to his chest.

"I care about you too much to let you do this to yourself, Stan!"

"Then show it."

Kyle knocked the bottle out of Stan's hand as it rolled to the floor, luckily not breaking it due to the carpeted ground.

He grabbed Stan by the collar of his shirt and shook him.

"I won't!" tears welled in his eyes.

"Well, then you can just turn away because there is no changing my mind."

Kyle's face contorted into that of an angry stare. His mouth hung open slightly.

"Fine. Just fucking do it. I'm done trying to convince you, Stan. You're obviously not going to budge."

Stan looked down at the bottle at his feet. Guilt rushed over him.

"You're right," Stan started. "I do need help."

"But I need this more." he finished.

"If you need it, then go ahead. I won't stop you anymore." Kyle replied plainly, turning away from his friend.

Stan hesitated.

"Well, go on. Do what you need to do. Just know that I'm really disappointed in you, Stan."

"Don't guilt trip me, Kyle."

"I'm not trying to."

"Yes you are."

Kyle sighed heavily.

I'm getting Stan help. I obviously can't help him myself. I'm calling a rehab center tomorrow.

"Goodnight, Stan."

Kyle moved to the corner of the room again. He pulled the blanket around himself and closed his eyes.

"Do what you want now. I won't bother you anymore about it."

When Kyle had fallen asleep, Stan picked up the bottle and contemplated. He turned it around in his hand.

Just do it.

It'll disappoint Kyle, though.

Who gives a fuck about Kyle.

I do!

You obviously don't if you're about to drink.

Stan sighed inwardly.

He uncapped the bottle and took a sip, falling into the temptation. It tasted bitter on his tongue.

He took it sip by sip until the bottle was almost half empty. Stan's head was spinning. Or was it the room that was spinning? He wasn't so sure anymore.

He was about to pass out when he heard Kyle stir in the corner of the room. The blanket had been kicked off of him and he was shaking.

"No, Stan… please…" he mumbled in his sleep. "I'm s…sorry. I'm sorry I d…don't…"

"I'm sorry I lied to you, p…please don't l…leave me, Stan…"

Kyle mumbled something else incoherent that Stan didn't quite catch.

Stan stumbled over to Kyle, frowning as he looked down on him from the corner.

"Lied about what, Kyle?" Stan's words were terribly slurred.

"L…lied about liking y…you…in that w…way…"

Kyle tossed onto his side, slumping over further in his spot.

"I…I wanted t…to keep you s…safe, Stan…"

Before Stan could hear anymore, he had blacked out.

Stan woke up sprawled on the bedroom floor. His hair was in disarray, pajamas a mess, mouth dry.

His eyes fluttered open to Kyle standing over him.

"Time for school."

"What…?" Stan's words were slurred.

"I said it's time for school."

Kyle tossed Stan's normal attire in his direction. The clothes were washed and clean, fresh out of the dryer. He had an absent look on his face.

"I'll leave you to it."

Kyle left the room so Stan could get dressed.

Stan rubbed his forehead. His head was pounding. His body felt like it was about to shut down.

"Fuck…"

Once Stan had gotten dressed and ready, he walked hesitantly downstairs and into the kitchen.

Kyle was eating cereal. He had poured a bowl for Stan and had the milk ready.

"Here," Kyle said plainly. "I poured you a bowl."

"Sorry, I'm not hungry."

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

"Why?"

"Because you need to eat."

Stan reluctantly sat down at the table next to his friend. Kyle poured the milk into the bowl and stuck a spoon in it.

"Do I have to do everything for you?"

Stan looked down.

Kyle finished his cereal and went to wash his bowl.

Stan said nothing. He played around with the cereal in his bowl.

"Come on, we're going to be late for school." Kyle said vaguely.

Stan swung his Broncos backpack over his shoulder as the two hurried for the bus stop. Cartman and Kenny were already there.

"Hey fags."

"Cartman, will you stop fucking calling us that?!" Kyle snapped.

"What, that's what you are, fags." Cartman retorted, snorting.

"And why are you such a Negative Nancy today, huh Kyle?"

"Drop it."

The bus rolled up to the stop and the four boys boarded.

Kyle pushed his way through the crowd and sat at the very last seat. There was only room for one.

Stan sat on the opposite side.

"Kyle?"

Kyle ignored Stan as he called his name.

"Kyle?"

Again, ignored.

Stan's heart sank.

I know he's upset with me.

Kyle had a blank look on his face as he looked ahead.

Stan felt his forehead again. The bump was slowly going away, and the bruise slowly starting to heal. The cut was still present, however.

"You have blood on your forehead."

Butters was looking over from the seat in front of Stan.

Stan touched his fingers to his forehead and pulled them back. Blood dotted his fingers.

He fished out his iPhone and looked in the reflection. Blood smeared his forehead, along with caked on dry blood. Stan groaned inwardly.

"Stan, you alright?" asked Butters. He was peering at Stan's forehead with a look of concern on his face.

"Fine, thanks. You better turn around." The bus driver was glaring at Butters from the front mirror.

Butters hesitated for a moment before turning around.

Stan took out a tissue from his bag and made sure all of the blood was wiped clean.

The bus rolled up to the school and the students got off.

Kyle pushed ahead of Stan and wandered off into the crowd of students. Stan huffed angrily.

When is he going to knock it off? Jesus Christ.

When Stan arrived in the classroom, Kyle was sitting at the far end. Stan thought it was best if he sat away from him for a while.

I miss him already.

He's right there.

I know, but it feels like he isn't.

Go talk to him, then.

He won't listen. I've already tried.

Then try harder.

Stan fished for his phone in his jacket pocket and typed out a text.

"Why won't you talk to me?" he wrote. Sent.

There was no response for about a minute and Stan saw Kyle glance at his phone but not reply.

He glared daggers at Stan from across the room.

"I'm sorry." Sent.

No reply.

The bell rang and the students wandered off into the halls. It was lunch time.

Stan got in the lunch line and Cartman sauntered up to him.

"What's wrong with Kyle?" he asked.

Stan shrugged.

"I tried asking him, but he keeps ignoring me."

Cartman nudged Stan in the side.

"Ask him again, then."

"Why do you care so much about what Kyle is feeling, fatass?"

Kyle overheard the conversation.

"He hates me right now for reasons. Can we just leave it at that?"

Cartman would drag the truth out of Stan sooner or later. He would get him to spill his secret; he just had to keep pestering him.

"Reasons? What are those reasons?"

"Leave me alone."

Stan pushed his way through the line and angry students glared as he passed. He grabbed his lunch and moved to a small table in the corner of the lunch hall.

Kyle sat somewhere in the middle of the hall with Kenny, Craig, and Clyde. Cartman shrugged and moved to the table where the boys were sitting.

Stan sat and picked at his pizza. He wasn't hungry. He just wanted to get home. But he had no home to go to right now. Not with Kyle hating him and his parents upset with him too. He didn't know what else to do. He had to make amends with Kyle somehow. He just needed to try harder to win his trust back.