Starting Note: So, I've finally plotted out this whole story from beginning to end. This means, I am ready to begin churning out chapters again. I'm glad that I've got the plot figured out because that means that I'll actually be able to write better chapters. Okay, I said this in the last chapter, but for those of you who skip and skim through chapters, I will say it again. This is a Stan/Kyle (Style) story and contains yaoi (boy/boy romance); if that's not your cup of tea, then please read no further than this note. This story is rated M for mature due to coarse language, sexual content, and ideologically sensitive material. Enjoy and don't forget to favorite and review if you like the story. Thanks.

"Stanley Marsh," Sharon called upstairs with a stern tone, clutching her son's prep sheets in her hand. "Get down here!"

"I'll be right back, Kyle," Stan said with a smile as he spoke into the microphone of his computer.

"Okay," the redhead answered, waving to his super best friend over his webcam. He pulled out a homework sheet and began working on it with extreme determination while he waited for his friend to return.

"Yeah, Mo-" the ebony-haired, blue-eyed adolescent began, his expression turning into slight worry as he came face-to-face with his prep sheets. "Oh, you, uh, you found those?"

"Would you please tell me why you got a sixty on your final exam prep sheets?" The brunette woman questioned, handing the papers to her son. Stan accepted the papers, trying to figure a way out of the situation.

"I, um, I was having a hard time focusing, I guess."

"How could you have a hard time focusing? I know that school isn't your favorite thing, Stan. But that gives you no excuse to just not try," Sharon explained with a firm tone. "Maybe some tutoring will help you concentrate."

"No, I'll do better on the exams, I prom-" Stan started, cutting himself off mid-sentence. "Actually, I bet Kyle could help me. He's good with school stuff."

"Well, I don't know," Stan's mother retorted, tapping her chin with her finger lightly. "Sheila told me that Kyle is taking early college classes and we wouldn't want him to get behind because he's busy tutoring you."

"But, Mom, don't you see? Kyle's taking early college classes for a reason, because he's really good in school. He'd be the perfect tutor because he's already done all the work that I'm doing now, so he'd understand it."

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it. I know how you two are when you get together. It's always joking around and playing video games."

"Please, Mom. I promise we'll really study."

Sharon shut her hazel eyes softly for a moment, sighing as she semi-reluctantly nodded her head. She took the papers away from her son and pointed up the stairs with a thin finger.

"Okay," she gave in, placing her son's prep sheets next to the phone as she reached out for the phone itself. "I'll call Sheila and ask if Kyle can come over tomorrow and help you study."

"No need," Stan beamed, halfway back up the flight of carpeted stairs. "I'm talking to Kyle on my webcam right now. If he hasn't left, that is."

"Stan, you're supposed to be studying, not talking to Kyle. This is exactly my point."

"We were just going over my homework," the raven-haired teen lied quickly before shutting his door and plopping back down in his computer chair. He warmly grinned as he saw Kyle's determined face, watching the redhead working on his homework. He doubted the Jew even noticed that he had returned. "Boo!"

"Gah!" Kyle shouted lightly as the sound of his friend's voice caught him off guard. He looked up from his homework and back to his computer with surprised eyes. His expression turned serious, a light tint of pink sprawling over his pale face. "Stan, you scared the hell out of me."

The blue-eyed boy chuckled softly, loving the way the blush livened up Kyle's pale face. He admired him for a brief moment before speaking.

"Sorry, Dude. Hey, I wanted to ask you something. Can you come over tomorrow and help me with my homework? My mom was snooping around through my backpack and found that sixty I got on those prep sheets."

"Oh, sure," the curly-haired adolescent agreed with a sweet smile, removing his ushanka and running a hand through his fiery locks. "What time should I go over?"

"Whenever is okay, I guess. Maybe around noo-" Stan stopped speaking abruptly as he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh. "Ah!"

"Stan, what's wrong?"

"What? Oh, nothing. I forgot my phone was in my pocket and it just made my crotch vibrate," Stan nonchalantly spoke until he realized what he just told his best friend. "I mean, the phone was on vibrate and when it went off it just… I'm not making this sound any better, am I?"

"Aha, no. Not at all," Kyle blushed, trying to recover from a slight fit of perverted giggles. "But I understood what you meant. My phone does that to me all the time."

The ebony-haired teen's face was still a deep shade of cherry red. He wriggled his phone out from the tight confinement of his pocket and flipped it open. His heart sunk as he saw the screen flashing the one name he never wanted to see nor hear again.

"Uh, hang on a sec, Kyle. I just got a text from Wendy."

"Wendy? Didn't you two officially break up like two months ago?"

"Yeah and she's barely talked to me since. Besides she's dating Token now, so this must be important," Stan spoke, his voice slightly stern and concerned as he glared at his phone, muttering to himself.

He pressed a button on his cellular phone that caused the text message to open upon the bright screen. He sighed reading the words with a dull, bored expression until he read the last few words. His eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as he rubbed them furiously and stared at the message once again. Surely he was reading something wrong or Wendy had miss typed the message or maybe the message had been meant for Token.

He read the words over and over until his head was spinning. This wasn't possible. Nothing had ever happened to make this possible. By this point, Stan was both confused and annoyed as he continued to reread the message. It had completely slipped his mind that Kyle could see his every move and expression.

"Dude, is everything okay? You've been reading that message for the past two minutes," Kyle asked with concern lacing his voice. His expression was just as concerned as his voice when Stan looked up to face him.

"Uh, yeah, everything's okay. I have go, I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Erm, sure, okay. I should probably go help Ike with his homework anyway."

"Y-you do that," the taller teen stuttered, clicking a button to end the video call he had established with his friend. "Damn it, Wendy. You stupid whore!"

"Stan?" Randy questioned, walking into his son's room. "You know you're not suppose to call people whores."

"Dad, you don't understand," Stan replied until he realized his dad was in his room. "Hey, get out of my room. How long have you been standing there?"

"A few minutes," came the simple reply from the mustached man. "Why are you calling Wendy a whore? You two broke up like two months ago, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it's not that. It's just," the blue-eyed teen sighed, moving over to lay on his bed. "Dad, I want to be alone. I have a lot to think about."

"Right, your mom told me about how you failed your prep sheets."

"Damn it, Dad! Get out!"

Randy stood in the doorway, looking at his son with slight shock. He scoffed softly, rolling his brilliant blue eyes that matched the color of his son's.

"Well, I know where I'm not wanted," he spat, turning on his heel like an immature child. "Oh, Stan, your mom wants you down for dinner in ten minutes."

With that, Randy left the room and shut the wooden door behind him. Stan was finally left alone, well not exactly alone. He still had his thoughts. His thoughts that were racing and slowly tormenting him. He thought up horrible scenarios, each one worse than the previous one had been.

"Th-this isn't my fault. I'm a virgin," he muttered under his breath, pressing his face into the fluffy pillow on his bed. "There is absolutely no way in hell that that baby is mine. I've never even had sex with Wendy. I would never have sex with Wendy. I don't love her. Never have really."

He couldn't get that text message out of his head. Every time he shut his eyes he could see the words in his vision. He hissed and growled, growing enraged as the words refused to leave his thoughts. He drew back his fist and roughly pounded it into the pillow.

Stan,

This is hard for me to tell you. Honestly, it is. But I'm not going to beat around the bush. I've hidden this for a whole month now and it's time that I told you. I'm pregnant. And you better step up and take responsibility for your baby.

Wendy

His baby? How dare she have the nerve to blame him and say that that baby was his! She knew damn well they had never had sex. She knew damn well!

Stan was infuriated. Not due to the fact that Wendy was pregnant, he already knew that she was whore willing to spread her legs to anyone. Well, not until she had admitted to having sex with several guys from the school. Even some of the guys who were openly gay had fucked around with her. That's the whole reason they decided to break up and never reconsider their relationship. No, he was angry due to the fact that she would actually blame him for something she knew wasn't his fault.

"Stan! Shelly! Dinner!" Sharon shouted so her children could hear her clearly. She walked over to the table and laid out four plates of baked chicken and tater-tots.

"Mom! I'm talking to my boyfriend online!" Shelly bellowed, saliva spewing from her mouth as she spoke. "I don't have time for dinner!"

"Shelly Marsh, get down here and eat your dinner! You too, Stan!"

Stan groaned heavily, his raven locks plastered to his face as he raised his head up from the pillow (which he was lying on face down). He used his spidery fingers to push the locks away from his eyes and crawled off of the bed.

"Mom, I don't feel so great. Could I skip dinner?" The emotionally scarred teen murmured as he reached the end of the stairwell, his shoulders slumping over lightly.

"Um, of course. What's wrong?" Sharon inquired with slight concern, walking over to her son and placing his hand to his forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

"I just have a headache. I just need to go to my room and rest."

"Okay, I'll put your dinner in the microwave in case you want it later."

Stan nodded, his hand grabbing onto the banister as he began to walk back up the stairs. He entered his room and sighed deeply as he shut the door behind him. He plopped down on his bed as more thoughts invaded his mind.

"Damn you, Wendy. Even when you're not around, you cause so many fucking problems."

Suddenly, the teen's phone began to vibrate again. He opened it, expecting another text from Wendy. However, this text didn't make him angry, it made him smile to no end. How could a simple text do that? How could a single text from Kyle make the worst of situations seem okay?

Stan,

Sorry if I'm texting you at a bad time, like if you're eating dinner or something. I was just worried about you and was wondering if you're okay?

Kyle

Stan could feel that uncontrollable smile creep back over his slightly tanned face. His baby-blue eyes absorbing the words. He flipped out his phone's built-in keypad and feverishly texted back.

Kyle,

I'm just fine… now.

Stan

Ending Note: Um, yeah, sorry for turning Wendy into a whore. It's for the good of the story, honest. Okay, okay, I admit it. I despise the girl with a passion. Anyway, it's four in the morning and I'm having a really bad anxiety attack right now. I'm twitching worse than Tweek would be if he was sober from coffee for a year. I only proofread this chapter a couple of times. Hopefully it's not too bad. So, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Reviews are appreciated and loved. Stay tuned for chapter three.