I glance at my watch without missing a step on the treadmill. I groan and power it off, grabbing my things for swim practice, struggling for breath after a harsh workout on no food, with bruises all over my body. I slip into my holey shoes and grab my jacket, pausing to glance at myself in the hallway mirror. I sigh and continue out the door.

I almost miss the number four bus to the pool, but sprint down the street just in time to catch it. I begin to regret running as I take a seat on the almost-empty bus.

There's this homeless-looking dude staring at me with one eye, and it kinda creeps me out, but I try to ignore him. He gives me a creepy smile, to which I smile back awkwardly.

I get off once the bus pulls up shakily to the curb beside the pool, I force my legs to carry me up the slight hill to the building, head pounding and stomach groaning desperately. The secretary at the pool smiles and waves shyly, and I smile back fakely. Seems like I'm fake most of the time nowadays.

Cartman greets me in the change room with a 'hey poorboy', and Tweek screeches hello. Cartman leans against a wall, already clad in a swimsuit, clearly waiting for me. I swallow and look away from him as I remove my clothing, stripping down to my swim trunks. Cartman and Tweek try to look away from my dilapidated body uncomfortably as we head out to the pool.

As Cartman leaves us to try and hit on a bikini-clad Heidi, Tweek pulls me aside. "Uh, K-Kenny, I..." he begins anxiously, trembling. "Craig told me - GAH - he told me that you have an... eating disorder! That's not true though, right? And GOD, what happened to you, you're all bruised! Did you die again?" he asks quickly, eyes growing wide as he scans my body worriedly, pulling at his hair in terror.

I cough and look away, blushing furiously, tears burning in my eyes. "Uhm," I murmur, my mind racing. Tweek raises an eyebrow at me. "Yeah, I... I'm sick." I choke out. I was about sixty percent embarrassed, thirty-five percent proud of myself for admitting this, and five percent terrified someone would overhear. "And, uh, I didn't die, actually... my dad - um - beat me up."

Tweek stares at me, completely still and silent for once. "Oh."

The blonde glances at the deck for a moment before looking back up, and biting his lip. It's only when the coach blows his whistle and tells us to get in the pool that Tweek walks away, obviously wondering what, if anything, he should say.

I get in the pool and immediately get my face wet so no one would tell when I begin to cry.

"Alright, you stupid little bastards," the gym teacher addresses us in his usual fashion. "Listen up!" Everyone continues talking, until the teacher blows his whistle directly in Clyde Donovan's ear, at which point he promptly shuts up, along with the rest of the jocks in this hell of a class.

As the teacher assigns teams for soccer, I glance around. Upon realizing his absence, I wonder where Craig is. He hardly ever skips, and I'd seen him earlier today in Philosophy. "He's probably off telling more people things they don't need to know," I think scornfully.

"Hey, whorebag, get your ass over here!" someone calls me, shaking me out of my thoughts, back to the task at hand: trying not to embarrass myself playing soccer. I hurry over to my team just in time for them to assign me the role of center forward, on the grounds that, that is my position in hockey. Center forward means a lot of running.

While I usually enjoy excersize, I don't enjoy blowing out my lungs. But, having no choice in the matter, I take the position and wait for someone to pass to me, hoping dearly that they didn't.

Token, the forward wing, eventually becomes confined by the other team's defense, and passes to me. I stop the pass with my left foot, kicking it forward. The other team's defense gets the ball from me, and I attempt to get it back, due to my entire team cursing at me and telling me how much I suck.

I stick my foot in front of Kevin, kicking the ball to Token. I stand there like a retard at that point, being proud of myself for getting the ball.

"Run, you dumb fuck!" someone screams. I realize that Token was in need of a pass, so I muster up all my remaining energy and sprint down the field after the play.

As I approached the ball's location, my vision became spotty, to the point where I could barely see. Still, not being able to stand people yelling at me and hating me, I keep running.

I guess excersizing day in and day out, having no food and being beaten to a bloody pulp on a regular basis can catch up with you. This was all I could figure as I collapsed to the grass, blacking out quickly. As I slip into unconsciousness, I hear Clyde say, "Pussy. Can't even handle a simple soccer game. Pathetic."

Pathetic. Definitely.

I wake up in a hospital bed, which I identify immediately as I come to. There's a black-haired figure standing right above my face. I open my eyes fully and, to my surprise, it isn't Craig or Stan standing above me. It's Ike.

"Hey, Kenny's waking up!" he announces. I sit up to see Kyle, asleep in a plastic chair across the room. Kyle stirs at the sound of his brother's voice and comes over, a look of relief on his face.

"Hey," he says quietly. I just swallow as the redhead sits down beside me and places his hand on mine, stroking my skin with his thumb. "How are you doing?" the Jew asks in concern.

I shrug. "I'm okay I guess. What time is it?"

Ike says, "Quarter after nine."

I yawn and push my hair out of my face, not remembering a thing about my being hospitalized. "What happened?" I asked simply. Kyle bites his lip. "Did I die again?" He shakes his head 'no' and looks at his brother.

"Ike, why don't you go to the cafeteria? Bring me a Sprite, okay?" Kyle says, handing Ike a five-dollar bill as the young man nods and leaves. I gave Kyle a look. "Kenny," he says quietly, placing a hand to my cheek. His touch is warm, and I lean into him as tears begin to spill from his eyes. I look away in guilt, memories flooding back to me.

"Craig and Stan told me everything." I nod once. "I'm so sorry, Kenny, I - I didn't know you were sick. And... I didn't know that you really, um, loved me," he adds, blushing and averting his gaze from mine.

I sigh and lay down. "God, Kyle, I'm so sorry, I didn't want you to know any of this, you're probably just disgusted, and weirded out, and I'm such a fucking loser, and -"

And his lips are on mine. I'm too paralyzed to move, so Kyle moves away quickly. "Jesus Christ, Kenny, I can't believe after everything I've heard, you still think you're a loser. You have an eating disorder, it's not your fault." I just shake my head. "It's not your fault, Kenny," he says again, kissing me again, deeper and longer than before. And this time, I kiss him back.

Kyle says, pulling away slightly. "And I love you, too."

I beam. Kyle blushes and grins. For the first time in my life, I feel wanted. Alive. Human. "Really?"

The Jew nods and says, "I just hope you can get better, Kenny."

"What if I can't?" I ask, placing a hand over my face in exasperation. "I've tried so hard already."

Kyle took my hand off of my face and held it. "I'll help you. It'll be okay," he says comfortingly, pulling me into a tight hug.

Ike reenters the room a few minutes later, handing Kyle his Sprite and one of three cookies. He gives me one as well, and proceeds to inhale one himself. Kyle looks at me with worry. I stare at the cookie for a very long time, during which time Kyle scolds Ike for making me 'uncomfortable', and Ike argues that he was trying to be nice in getting me a cookie.

Kyle stops short when he hears me nibble into the cookie, and stares as I consume the entire thing.

Sorry for long update! R&R :)