A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I've got a lot on my plate right now and haven't really had the motivation to write any chaptered stories. This is mostly all the other stuff happening on the side from Craig and Tweek. The next chapter will be very Creekie, I promise. ;D I hope you guys enjoy, nonetheless.

It had been only about half an hour since Kenny and Kyle had left Tweek alone in his room. And he was already going crazy again. He sank his teeth into his bottom lip, looking at his empty desk drawer. A reminder that he was officially out of smack. What was he supposed to do? He promised Kenny that he would go to school tomorrow, but he couldn't go like this, could he? He was a wreck.

Tweek groaned as he forced himself out of bed, quietly padding to the bathroom across the hall. He flicked on the light and nearly let out an 'eep!' as his reflection in the mirror greeted him sourly. His expression turned to one of disgust as he observed himself in the mirror.

His eyes were sunken in, red, and sort of swollen. One of them had a shiny ring of purple around it from when Craig had nailed him. His cheeks had scratches all over them, some of which were self inflicted. He lifted up his shirt to look at his body, which looked dangerously skinny. It wasn't out of the ordinary for him to be frail, but right now, he looked like a holocaust victim.

All of that, and he hadn't showered in what felt like a week.

Tweek sighed, continuing to stare at his reflection. He had to try to get himself together.

The walk home was painfully quiet. Kenny invited Kyle to his house to have a beer or two, and Kyle had accepted, but other than that… Nothing much was said. There was nothing really to be said.

But it became clear where Kenny had developed his 'open the door without knocking or greeting anyone in the vicinity' habit. Right when he opened the front door to his house, he grabbed Kyle and they made it to his room as quickly as possible.

"Definitely don't want to talk to the parents," Kenny laughed. "It's best to just avoid them."

Kyle let out a half-hearted chuckle, sitting down on Ken's bed. If it could be called that. Really, all it was, was a mattress on the floor with a knitted blanket strewn over it. Not even any pillows.

He watched as Kenny opened up a mini refrigerator, getting two Bud Lights and tossing one Kyle's way. He clumsily caught the beverage, nearly dropping it. He couldn't help but laugh.

"So, you're flat broke, not a penny to your name, and you have a mini fridge?"

Kenny 'tch'd and sat down next to Kyle. "It was a gift from Craig, actually. It was his old one. Motherfucker has so much money to blow now that he works at that auto place."

Kyle nodded and smiled, looking down at the can in between his two bony hands. "So… did you mean what you said?"

Kenny raised an eyebrow at his red haired companion, popping open his beer can and sipping the fizz that erupted from it. "Of course I did! Tweek has to come to school, Kyle. He can't just stay in his room and vegetate for the rest of his life until he dies."

"Not about that," Kyle muttered, feeling the need to pinch the bridge of his nose like his best friend often did. He felt kinda bad bringing up matters that didn't concern Tweek at this point, because it was clear that Tweek was Kenny's priority. He should have been Kyle's, too. And normally, he would be. But he couldn't help what was weighing on his mind, right?

"What?" Kenny set his can down on the carpet next to his feet, staring at it.

"Uh, what you said earlier. About … Butters and I," Kyle mumbled pathetically, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans. Now he just wished that he didn't say anything.

Kenny turned to Kyle, who was biting his lip and staring at the floor like it was incredibly interesting, or something. He knitted his eyebrows and picked up his beer, sipping it gingerly. "What, saying I'd fuck you?" He tried to be nonchalant about it, but the topic made even him nervous.

"Y-yeah," Kyle blushed, looking at the floor. "I just wasn't expecting you to say it, I guess. I dunno."

"What, does that change things between us?" Kenny asked, still looking intently at the other boy.

Kyle found himself unable to look at Kenny. Sure, he'd always been attracted to Kenny, but… Kenny was straight. Kenny didn't go for boys. Especially boys like Kyle. He was skinny, had stupid curly red hair, and was kind of awkward. What the hell would Kenny fuck him for?

"N-no," Kyle sputtered. Lie.

"Kyle," Kenny put a cautious hand on said boy's leg. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just saying. You're really attractive. It's nothing. We're still like, best friends. Not super best friends, like you and Stan, but still. This doesn't change anything, dude."

"Oh, yeah. Of course," Kyle nodded, smiling weakly. He was still avoiding eye contact. "I, yeah. We're just friends, dude. Besides, you have Butters, right? Yeah…"

"Yeah, exactly," Kenny agreed smoothly. "Nothing weird." He took a drink of his beer again, looking over to Kyle, who was already finishing his first one.

"I'll have another beer, if that's okay," he said hazily.

Kenny smirked, laughing a little. "Slow your ass down, Broflovski."

"Wendy, please tell me that you're joking. Tell me that Bebe put you up to this. Tell me anything but that."

"Stan… no. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Stan remained silent. Was this really happening? They hadn't broken up in almost two years. His lips became a thin line as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to think of something to say. Anything at all.

He held his cell phone away from his face, staring at the receiver. This wasn't happening.

"Stan, are you there?" Came Wendy's static laced voice from the small device.

Stan felt tears well up in his eyes. "W-What? Yeah— yeah, I'm here," he murmured, voice cracking. He blinked back the tears, getting his eyelashes wet.

The line was silent for a good moment or two. Was this it? Was this really it?

"Wendy, I just… why? That's all I want to know. Just… ugh, why?" Stan groaned and put his head in his hand, dark hair falling into his face.

"Stan, I don't really want to tell you… It's just going to hurt you—"

"Tell me," Stan demanded weakly. Token again, maybe? Stan figured he'd have to commit suicide or something if that happened. Well, not really. ...Actually, maybe. Yeah.

"There's… there's someone else, Stan."

No surprise there. He already saw this coming. He had been prepared for this from the moment that Wendy said that they should stop seeing each other. She never had any other reason for breaking up with him. Stan stayed quiet for a moment, expecting her to utter something about Token, but her beautiful voice didn't come.

"Wendy? …Who?"

"…I can't tell you, Stan."

"Why?"

"I just… I can't," Wendy said shakily. It sounded like she was crying. Or trying not to. One or the other.

"Wendy, just t—"

"You know how Cartman doesn't have his license? And I drive him everywhere? Well, we spend a lot of time together, and… I just..." She cut off, and started to sniffle.

Cartman? Eric Cartman? No… no, no way. Stan clenched his fists and shut his eyes. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry.

"Wendy, no…" Stan choked in disbelief. Cartman? Really?

"Stan, I'm sorry. I… I'll talk to you later. Bye."

"Wendy, wait!"

Click.

The raven haired boy's lungs closed up and he swore that he felt his heart split in two… again. He needed to call Kyle. Kyle could always make him feel better. Stan knew that Kyle didn't want to hear about bullshit with Wendy, but hell, he'd probably be happy about them breaking up anyway.

He pressed the #2 speed dial on his phone, for Kyle's blackberry. Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring.

Ring.

Kyle didn't answer.

Stan called him again. Twelve times. Kyle still didn't answer.

"...Fuck."