Disclaimer: South Park and all characters in it are copyright Matt Stone and Trey Parker, not me.

A/N:

I do this for you, you know. This is all for YOU.

Funny thing: The Folder holding this story is titled "Stoth". I'm so original.

Notes:

I have been researching this chapter for the past three days. No, false. I have been researching it almost since I started, but I have been researching it DILLIGENTLY the past three days. How much of my research went into that explanation you'll be reading? Around… 20%. I don't feel it was a waste, however, so that is good.

This story is not easy to write, it is a pain. It makes my wrists hurt badly and my head hurt almost as bad. It rips and tears its way out of my fingers, but it also is so horribly fulfilling that it makes it all worthwhile.

There isn't much I can say here without giving away parts of this chapter, so I won't. Read, and enjoy.

Thank you to:

Hot Monkey Brain

Wishmaster Kami

Thequillofdestiny

Fancee

Lilzenium

Shanello

Kusege-Chan

Chapter six hit seven (!!) reviews. In just around 24 hours. You guys are spoiling me.

The love I feel for you all cannot be expressed in mere words! Thank you all for your support!


Title: Pink

Author: Zoshi the Confused
Rating: Ranging, mostly PG-PG13

Category: South Park

Genre: Angst/eventual tragedy

May contain: Shounen-Ai/Boy Love, Violence, Adult Situations, Swearing


The chair squeaked as I shifted my weight, eyes closed. The harsh glare of hospital lights penetrated past my eyelids, and I raised a hand to rub them wearily. Footsteps sounded, a steady staccato. Step, step, step. Turn. Step, step, step. I sighed, opened my eyes to see Cartman pass in front of me again, hands in his jeans pockets, eyes distant. A few more steps, and he turned again, this time noticing my look. I tried to grin, but probably failed, and he shook his head, walking on.

I pushed myself up off the seat, nearly running into Cartman as he headed back along an imaginary line. I put out a hand, let it rest on his shoulder as he turned his face towards me. I was glad I called him, I was glad he came. I don't think I would've been able to handle Kenny myself the past five hours. I squeezed his shoulder slightly; I didn't know if I could say the thanks I knew I should say. His eyes were darkened with worry, even as he tried to look as annoyed as possible, but he raised an arm to pat me on the back gently. It took more willpower than I thought I had not to throw myself at him, wrap my arms around his shoulders and let loose. Instead I gave him a shaky grin, and taking a deep breath I stepped past him towards where Kenny stood, and had been standing for almost an hour now. I stopped next to him in front of the large window looking into the recovery room, a little unsure about what to do.

"Why…why did they have to operate?" His voice was quite, almost as if he had no energy left to form words.

"I don't know…" I said, honestly. Reaching out I lay my arm across his shoulders, pulled a little closer to him. He was still shaking, slightly, and he couldn't break his gaze away from Kyle on the other side of the window. The redhead lay on a large hospital bed, attached to a few different machines by a series of tubes and wires.

"Why won't they tell us anything?" Kenny growled lowly, turning to look at me finally. His eyes lacked the energy of his words, and his face was pale. He'd let me drag him to a bathroom while Kyle was in surgery to get his face washed off, thankfully.

"Maybe they're waiting for his parents…" I shrugged, looking back at Kyle's still form. I heard Kenny whimper, lean away from me to press his forehead against the cool window. I took a breath, "Look, I'll try to find something out, okay?"

"Kenneh," Cartman came up on the other side of the bonde suddenly, and while his hand found Kenny's arm, his gaze was on me. I met his eyes, frowning, but he motioned to the side with his head. "Come on, let's take a little walk. Get some coffee or something…"

"No… I can't…" Kenny tried to pull out of his grasp, pressed his hands against the window desperately.

I glanced away for a second in the direction Cartman had indicated to see the man – the doctor – who'd signed Kyle in heading our way. Turning back to the blonde I gave his shoulder a squeeze, and tried to give him a reassuring smile.

"It's all right, Ken, I'll be here," I said. He turned his eyes on me, and I could see the tears gathering in them again. "I'll call you, if anything… okay?"

"Yeah, Kenneh, it'll be fine…" Cartman urged from the other side, pulling on the blonde's arm gently. Kenny relented finally, stumbling along as Cartman led him down the hallway. I watched them go, almost unaware of the footsteps getting closer to me.

"Stan, is it?"

The man's voice almost surprised me. I turned to look at him, nodding.

"Yeah, I'm Stan," I said, my voice strained. "What's going on with Kyle?"

The man eyed me critically for a moment, but I could see he was thinking deeply about something.

"I'm not, technically, supposed to give any information out to anyone other than his close family," He said slowly, and I sighed, shaking my head.

"His parents are stuck in a blizzard right now, I called them but there are detours everywhere, they don't know when they'll get here," I groaned. I closed my eyes, trying to think. "But, Kenny. Kenny's, technically… legally, I guess, he's his brother."

I opened my eyes to look at the man hopefully. I couldn't call him a doctor, he had a certain edge to him that made him something more. Maybe he'd been an army medic; he certainly looked like he could fit the part. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he looked past me down the hallway.

"He might be…" He mused, but then his attention shifted to me again. "Do you believe he's in any state to be receiving any information?"

"Honestly?" I ran a hand through my hair, sighing. "Honestly, I don't think he'd take anything well if it came from you. He's not exactly… doctor friendly… But he has to be told something, dammit, all of us do. I can't just sit here, and wait, and keep wondering…"

I looked at him, pleading, desperate. I couldn't stand it anymore; I had no idea why Kyle was in surgery, I had no idea why it had taken three goddamn hours, and I had no idea why he wasn't awake yet. My mom was up in fifteen, twenty minutes after her knee surgery.

"The staff will be working to let Kyle up in the next minutes, taking out his breathing tube and other equipment that is no longer necessary…" The man started, but I frowned.

"Let him wake up? What, what does that mean?" I interrupted, looking towards the window. I hadn't noticed, but people had gone inside, and a nurse was working at unhooking wires from the electrodes on Kyle's chest.

"I will get to that… Now, I will tell you what we know, and I'll trust you to pass the information along to your friends in the way you think is best," The man said softly. I looked at him in surprise.

"You will?" I could've cried, I thought. I hadn't known I was so close to tears; I could practically feel them welling up.

"I shouldn't, but you all seem to be pretty close," He tucked his clipboard under one arm, and looked at me with as calm a gaze I'd seen him manage since we'd gotten to the hospital five hours earlier. "Now, are you ready?"

I nodded, trying not to look over-eager. He led me over to the chairs, and we sat down facing each other.

"We had to take Kyle into surgery because of two factors. One was his arm; I think you might be relieved to hear that, while the wounds were deep, they were not with the wounds you would expect on someone who was attempting to commit suicide." I shuddered at that, but part of the tension left me. That was good, that was good, but why then… I opened my mouth, but the man held up a hand to stop me.

"Kyle did have a significant dose of Vicodin in his system. If what your friend, Kenny, said is correct, and Kyle has a history of self-harm, I would think that the depth of his wounds was caused rather by the pain-dampening effect of Vicodin, rather than any true intent to cause himself serious injury. With self-harm, the person is usually doing something to themselves to cause enough pain to take their attention from what is bothering them. With the Vicodin affecting his system, Kyle most likely had to cause more serious injuries to himself in order to feel the pain he was expecting, and wanting, and his actions were probably entirely subconscious…" The man paused a moment, as if to see if I was keeping up, and I nodded. "Now, we had to work on putting everything in his arm back in its correct place. We were able to do a good job with that, but unfortunately he had damaged a part of the median nerve right before his wrist. We were able to patch it up, but there is a chance he will have slight problems with hand and wrist movements, as well as grip in his hand."

"But… will it be bad?" I asked, hands twisting around each other on my lap.

"There was not a great deal of damage, so I would say it will not be quite so bad. I cannot say for sure, we have to wait until he wakes up to assess the situation," The man gave me a long look then, and I almost thought he was done speaking. He took a deep breath finally, and continued, his eyes on my face. "There is another reason we had to take Kyle into surgery, and if it wasn't for you and your friend, things might have ended much worse than they were."

Worse? I felt a chill, suddenly, a spasm of a shake went through me. I wanted to ask what, how, but I couldn't find my voice.

"The extreme headache, the sudden shout of pain that you spoke of, tipped us off to a very unlikely occurrence. Very, very unlikely, in the case of a teenager, but not improbable…" The man folded his hands on his knees. "We did a few quick tests while preparing him for surgery to make sure. You see, Kyle had an aneurysm."

"A… but, old people get those…" I said, frowning uncertainly. The man nodded slightly.

"Yes, but in rare cases they appear in much younger people as well. The chance of a young person developing an aneurysm seems to be familial; often, others in the family have them as well, although not everyone's develops quite so quickly. Stress can raise the chances of an aneurysm developing faster, as well as high blood pressure. There are still factors we are unsure of in regards to aneurysms in young people," The man – the doctor, I had to remind myself again – looked over towards the window, and I did as well. It seemed that most of the people in the room were beginning to leave, and a nurse was writing something down on a clipboard. "We were extremely lucky; the aneurysm had begun to leak, but it had not ruptured completely, and we were able to insert a catheter into the weakened vein to repair it. We have waited a while before allowing him to regain consciousness until we could be sure that there was no danger of any more leakage from the area of the aneurysm."

"Is… is he going to be all right?" I whispered, looking back at him. The man turned his gaze to me, stared at me for a long moment, then put a hand on my shoulder.

"We won't know for sure what damage has been done until he is awake and we can run some neurological tests. From the way it looked, however, it does not seem that any serious damage has occurred," He squeezed my shoulder, and stood up. "All in all, as worrisome as it may sound, things are looking very positive for Kyle. I have no doubt that, physically at least, he will make a full recovery."

"…thank you…" I managed to squeeze out of my suddenly constricted throat. I watched as the last nurse left the room and walked over to the man in front of me.

"You're welcome," The man nodded to me, accepting the clipboard the nurse handed to him. Looking it over quickly, he thanked her and turned back to me. "You can go in if you'd like, he should be waking soon."

I stood up so suddenly I almost lost my balance. I hadn't realized I was as tired as I was, but I managed to stay on my feet and walk over to the door. Pressing down on the handle, I pushed the door open and padded in as silently as I could. For some reason, even though I knew Kyle was supposed to be waking up, I felt bad making any noise. I grabbed a chair that was standing next to the doorway and picked it up, carrying it over next to the bed, on Kyle's right side.

He looked paler than when I had been outside. There was a slightly pink line across his face where the band holding the breathing tube had been, but it was fading quickly. His eyes seemed slightly sunken in, dark smudges underneath them as if he hadn't been sleeping well. He probably hadn't been. I stared at his face, wondering what would happen when he finally opened his eyes. When he talked. Would there be a difference? Would he know what happened?

I reached out, took hold of his hand. It was warm, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. He was so still. I couldn't see if he was breathing or not, but he had to be. He had to.

His eyelids flickered; I gripped his hand tighter, leaned over to look at his face. No more movement, but I'd seen it, I knew I did.

"Kyle?" I breathed out. "Kyle, hey, you hear me?"

His eyelids flickered again, almost opening that time. I watched him closely.

"Kyle, it's me, Stan," I tried again, voice just slightly louder. "Come on… wake up…"

Another flicker of his eyelids, but this time they didn't close all the way. He took a deeper breath than those he'd been taking, his eyes pointing up towards the ceiling. They looked cloudy, lost. I reached out a hand, brushed his cheek.

"Kyle, hey," I was losing words; I didn't know what to say. I was grinning, I realized, grinning, and my eyes were stinging and I couldn't stop looking at him.

He blinked, slowly, took another deep breath as his eyes began to wander. Left, to right, I didn't know if he knew I was touching him but I stroked his cheek anyways. His eyes found me finally, resting a bit unfocused for a moment on my face.

"S…Stan…." He whispered, and I felt a tear roll its way down my face.

"Yeah, it's me…" I couldn't stop grinning, couldn't take my hand off of his cheek, couldn't stop touching him, couldn't stop making sure he was real.

"W-what… w-where…" His eyes started roaming again; his forehead wrinkled slightly. "W-what happ-pened?"

"You're in the hospital, Kyle," I choked out, and his eyes floated back towards me. "Don't worry, okay? Everything's all right. Everything's going to be all right…"

He seemed to relax for a moment, his eyes beginning to flutter closed. Suddenly, his hand clutched mine, his eyes flew open. He gazed, wild-eyed, around; I could feel him trying to move on the bed. I put my hand on his chest, stood up to try to look in his eyes. His gaze met mine, desperate.

"K-k-kenny…" He gasped finally, his eyes shooting to one side again, searching. "Ken…Kenny…"

"Calm down, okay? Calm down, Kenny's here…" I tried my best to soothe him. I glanced up quickly towards the window, just in time to see both Cartman and Kenny come into view. They were both holding what looked like steaming cups of coffee, but then Kenny's eyes fell on me and Kyle, and he shoved the cup into Cartman's other hand and rushed to the door. Pushing it open, he practically ran to the bed, nearly falling onto Kyle as he skidded into the side of the bed.

"K-k-kenny…" Kyle's eyes found him, focused. His mouth moved in unspoken words, be he seemed to lack the energy to say them.

"Shh, shh, it's all right," Kenny whispered, brushing the hair off of Kyle's forehead. There were tears on his face again, rolling down his cheeks freely, but he was smiling. "Everything's fine, everything's fine…"

Kyle's hand had let go of mine; he reached up to touch the hand Kenny had placed on his cheek instead. His eyelids had slid to half-closed, but he was staring up at Kenny as if he couldn't look away. The desperate look on his face had faded, he was starting to look relaxed, calm. I looked at Kenny, wondering if I should carry the chair over to him, but the blonde was already pulling himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, continuing to smile and cry and stroke Kyle's face and say things I don't think either of them heard.

Quietly, I made my way out of the room, closing the door behind me as silently as possible. The relief was almost too much for me; I could probably sit down and pass out for hours. Sighing, I walked over to where Cartman stood leaning against the window. He handed me the cup of coffee Kenny had deserted and took a sip of his own.

"Fags," He huffed, eyeing the two through the window. I looked at him sharply, and just barely caught the flash of a grin on his face before he noticed me looking. Taking another, longer, sip of his coffee, he turned away from the window and looked straight at me. He was trying to look, well, almost offended by the whole situation, but he was failing. Miserably. "Is he… you know… gonna be… whatever…"

"Yeah, Kyle's going to be fine…" I grinned at him, and saw the relief flood his face. He looked through the window again, just a glance, then glared at me.

"Shut up, you're just as faggeh as they are," He huffed, turning to stalk over to the chairs on the other side of the hallway.

I shook my head, grinning, and followed him over. He sat stiffly as I plopped into the chair next to him, but that didn't stop me from standing my cup on the floor and leaning over to lay my head on his shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?" He growled, trying to lean away, but I just followed his movements.

"G'night," I yawned, closing my eyes, and grinned at the string of curses he threw my way.

****

I'd sat there staring out of my windshield for at least fifteen minutes, and I was still almost half an hour early to school. I couldn't stay at the house; I couldn't have my mom keep giving me that pained grin, couldn't have my dad keep giving me encouraging pats on the back. I rubbed my eyes, telling myself to think optimistically. Kyle was going home today; I could go visit him later. That was good. That was really good. I looked out the windshield again, out at the drab grayish-reddish brick of the school wall. I wished Cartman was there with me, he'd be able to keep me awake at least. Keep me cognizant.

With a deep breath I pushed open my car door and got out. The wind was chilly, cold and cutting. I hunched my shoulders, walking towards the school and trying to keep from slipping on the patches of ice hidden beneath the thin blanket of snow. There seemed to be no one around this early, and my footsteps echoed hollowly in the hallway as I walked in the doors. Most of the lights were off, and there were shadows everywhere I looked.

It was a total toss-up, I knew it. I couldn't be sure, but I was going to try anyway. So down the hallway I went, took the corner by the empty nurse's office. Most of the doors here led to store rooms, and there weren't all that many. The hallway was short, and the only reason anyone ever went here was because of the doorway that led out towards the end of the parking lot. There was a dirty staircase back there, too. It led up to the second floor and opened onto a hallway leading down to the language lab, but it was usually dark and unlit and almost no one went there. Almost.

I heard the low murmur of voices before I'd gotten anywhere close to the end of the hallway, and I could feel a slight breeze around my legs. The lockers ended right before the staircase, and there were a few steps down to where the doors were located and where the staircase started upwards. The voices grew louder as I neared, and I could see that the door to the outside was propped open. There was a faint smell of smoke in the hallway, but most of it was being blown away by the frosty breeze. The little alcove was almost entirely in shadows; the only light was the slim rectangle on the floor extending from the open doorway. I was beginning to make out words, but I wasn't focusing on them. I didn't know what I was doing there, yet, or rather, I knew, but I didn't know what I wanted to accomplish. I was nearing the end of the lockers when certain words caught my attention, and I froze, staring ahead of me at the shadows.

"Did you hear about that Broflovski kid? No? Well, I was down at the hospital, for those tests, you know…"

I could barely make out the speaker, a black-clothed curvy figure leaning against the wall where the lockers ended, dark against a darker background. I recognized that voice, though, and I took a few slow steps towards her, feeling my hands begin to clench at my sides.

"Yeah, guess he tried to pull a Craig or something…"

My fist slammed into the last locker so hard I could practically feel the bones in my fingers shift. Henrietta whirled around, almost falling down the steps that led to the doorway. I was vaguely aware of other figures jumping up as the loud crash kept echoing down the hall. I couldn't see them, and I couldn't hear the echo, all I could see was the sudden shock and fear that had spiked through the girl's eyes, shock and fear that wasn't being quickly replaced by that cool gothic demeanor. I gritting my teeth and glared daggers, wishing my mom hadn't raised me to be a nice boy and that my morals let me hit girls once in a while.

I spun around, not waiting to see what other reaction I could get, and stalked back down the hallway. I didn't know where I was going; I couldn't see where I was going suddenly either. I wiped my face, but the tears clouded up my eyes as soon as I pulled my sleeve away. I turned into a bathroom finally, nearly throwing myself at a sink as soon as I was inside. I turned the faucets, tried to ignore the fact that the water was splashing everywhere, and on me most of all, and buried my face in my hands.

I didn't know what I was doing there. I didn't know what I was doing period. I was in school, but my eyes were closed, and all I could see was the stained rug, the bloody towel, Kenny's red hands. I'd spent all of yesterday scrubbing the back seat of the Civic with every cleaner I could find until the fabric looked brand new, but I could still see the stains. Closed my eyes, and there they were.

"Stan?" Red's voice broke through my thoughts suddenly.

I jerked up, turning towards the doorway as I tried to wipe my face off as best I could. My sleeves were wet, from tears of the splashing water in the sink, I didn't know.

"He didn't." I snapped. I tried to look at Red, but I couldn't meet his eye. He walked over slowly to me slowly, reaching out and turning the handles once he came close enough. He eyed me, a slight frown on his face, and I finally managed to meet his gaze, defiantly. "He didn't try… try to…"

I choked, unable to finish the sentence. Red's eyes looked sadder, darker. He reached out his arms and wrapped them around my neck, pulled me into a tight hug. I shuddered, dropping my face to his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him. His arms felt good around me, I felt safe suddenly. I was safe. I pushed myself against him, desperately trying not to cry anymore, desperately trying to calm down.

"How is he?" Red asked after a long moment. I sighed, unwilling to let him go, but he didn't seem to be loosening his hold. I shifted slightly, just enough to get my mouth free.

"He's… he's all right…" I said quietly, "He'll be all right… He's going home today."

"That's good," Red said softly, rubbing one hand lightly across my back. I felt his lips press against my temple in a gentle kiss. My arms wrapped tighter around him; he was real. He was real and he was here. He was solid.

A long moment passed, and then Red pushed away, just a little, enough to look me in the face. He didn't look too happy; actually, he looked a little concerned.

"What are you doing in school today?" He asked, and I shrugged. He sighed, brushing a hand across my cheek. "You look horrible…"

"Thanks," I chuckled slightly, grinning, but it didn't stop him from continuing to give me that same look. I sighed, looking at him. "I… just, wanted to see you."

"You idiot," He breathed, a little irritably, but I thought I saw something spark through his eyes. His hand dropped from my face to grab my arm, and he pulled me towards him as he turned towards the door. "Come on."

"What?" I frowned, but let myself be led out of the bathroom. The hallway was still deserted, and still half-lit. Red pulled me along to walk next to him, still holding my arm.

"We're going," He said simply, directing us towards one of the side entrances to the school.

"Where?" I asked, stumbling slightly as we headed out the doors. The sun outside was brighter than I had remembered it being.

"Anywhere," Red looked at me thoughtfully. I looked at him, confused but overall not too worried about the situation. Wherever we went, if he was there, I wouldn't mind. "Would you… want to go to my house?"

I looked at him, a little surprised. He looked like he was starting to consider other options, apparently thinking he might've been a little too forward with his suggestion, but I grinned, motioning to my car.

"Sure, let's go," I pulled him the first few steps, his hand still on my arm, but then he fell in step. He looked at me curiously, but didn't say anything as we got in the car. I pulled out of the school lot and onto the streets.

"Okay, you're going to have to help me," I said after passing a few streets, looking over at him from the corner of my eye. "Do I turn right or left at that tree?"

"You can find your way to my house stumbling around drunk in the middle of the night, but you can't find it sober in broad daylight?" Red answered back dryly. I was about to say something back to him, and it might have come out a bit snappy, but he turned to me, an amused glint in his eye and the barest of smiles on his lips. "From this direction, it's a right."

I tried not to grin too happily at his look, but didn't succeed. Somehow, things just didn't look so bad with him around, and I was more than happy to admit that. I found that cheery looking house that certainly didn't look like it would ever match the guy sitting next to me, and pulled into a spot just out front. We got out of the car silently, walking across to the gate and beyond it to the house with the snow crunching under our shoes. Red pulled out his keys as I stood and looked at the five small steps that led to the doorway and wondered how in hell I couldn't manage to get up them myself the last time.

"Is anyone home?" I asked as we headed inside, tapping the snow off of my shoes before I stepped on the carpeting.

"My mom leaves for work early," Red answered as I closed the door behind me. He unbuttoned his jacket and pulled it off, opening the coat closet door while I got mine off. "Even if she was home she probably wouldn't mind."

"What, you skipping school? Or you bringing someone over while skipping school?" I asked with a grin as Red took my jacket from me.

"Some things are just more important," Red answered, closing the closet door. "Do you want anything?"

I looked at him for a long moment; that was not exactly a smart way of phrasing the question, especially not with the state I was in. There was definitely something I wanted, and it wasn't going to be coming from the kitchen. Red seemed to realized that after a moment, his lips curving slightly. He took my hand in his, my fingers tingling at the contact, and led me into the living room and up to the couch. We sat down at almost the same time, hands still held. For a long moment, that was that. Us, sitting.

I didn't know what I wanted. No, I knew what I wanted. I wanted to throw myself at him, I wanted to bury myself in him. I wanted to see nothing but him and hear nothing but him and feel nothing but him. I felt horrible. I felt dirty. Kyle was hurt, he was fighting to get better, both physically and mentally. Kenny was suffering along with him, a walking train wreck. Hell, even Cartman was out of it, snappy and irritable in all the wrong ways, almost entirely unreachable at times. And here I was, throwing all that way, wanting nothing more than to escape, escape it all. I felt like a deserter, I felt like I was letting them down.

"Do you want to talk?" Red asked softly, his fingers squeezing mine. I shook my head, biting my lip. I couldn't talk; I'd sob if I tried, I knew it. I couldn't help it. I just wanted to be close to him; I couldn't deal with this on my own. He looked at me with even more concern in his eyes; his hand left mine to touch my shoulder gently.

I fell into him, pressed my face into his shoulder again. I couldn't stop it; I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my arms around him, pressing against him. His arms wrapped around me in turn, pulling me closer, almost on top of him, as he leaned back against the couch arm. It was safe again, there, I felt protected. I felt wanted.

"Shh, it's okay," His voice whispered into my ear, gentle and soothing. I breathed him in, spice and incense. His arms around me warmed me, his soft voice continued to chase away the shakes I hadn't realized I'd gotten. I closed my eyes, for once not seeing red when I did, not seeing the glare of hospital lights. I shifted around slightly, sliding down so I could press my ear against his chest, hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. I breathed a sigh, feeling his hand stroking my face, and let myself go.