A/N: I really want to finish up this story! It might be semi-long, but who knows!

"What if I can't stay?" Stan asked me before nodding off.

"Then I'd go with you." I said, even though he couldn't hear me. The nurse came in and ushered me out, claiming Stan needed his rest. I didn't want to go, but I reluctantly walked home.

AT DINNER

"What's wrong Bubala?" Mom asked. (A/N: Sorry if the spelling on that is off, I'm not Jewish XD) I stabbed a piece of lettuce with my fork. "Kyle?" I looked up.

"Oh, nothing." I obviously lied. Too bad that she saw right through the façade.

"I haven't seen you this upset since when you were at the bottom of that list the girls made." Mom said. I stayed in my, according to Mr. Mackey, "Debbie Downer" mood. I can't really be blamed though, how would you feel if you knew your best friend was most likely going to die because of a bullet you should've taken?

"Can I just go upstairs?" I asked, already standing up. Mom raised her eyebrow, but didn't say anything as I trudged upstairs.

"What do you suppose is wrong with him Gerald?"

"Maybe he's just in a mood swing or something?" Gerald said, his voice falling flat.

"...He's not a girl..." Sheila said, raising an eyebrow at her husband.

I took a seat on my bed, and I think I might've accidentally stared at the floor for two hours straight. I remember sitting down at approximately 6 PM, and when I finally looked up at the clock, it was 8 PM. All I could really think about was two things:

1.) I don't want Stan to die.

2.) Cartman is a major douchebag, and I don't even know why.

"GET READY FOR BED!" Mom yelled from downstairs. I put on my pajamas in a zombie-like fashion, and brushed my teeth in a zombie-like fashion. The next thing I knew, my alarm clock was going off, and I was tired as hell.

"What the hell even happened yesterday?" I thought as I rifled through my drawers. It hit me right then, and I had apparently forgotten over the course of a night that my best friend was in the hospital.

Before I even had time to think about what I was going to do with my life today, I was shouting to my mom that I was visiting Stan in the hospital. She said to be back by dinnertime, because of dinner, and the fact that I haven't done my homework.

"Hey Stan." I greeted, walking through the doorway with the nurse. He looked all pale and not like Stan. If Cartman were here, he probably would've started ripping on Stan for looking like a vampire, and I would be beating him up for stuff and he'd be calling me a stupid Jew, but Cartman wasn't here.

Thus, the wave of awkwardness crashed down. "Hospital beds huh?" I asked, not knowing what the hell I was even supposed to say.

"My stomach hurts," Stan stated, rather bluntly.

"You don't say..." I said sarcastically. That was where he got shot after all.

"I'm going to cut the small talk. I'm not going to be here much longer. I feel like fucking shit Kyle, and then, it's like a small little knife slowly cutting apart my insides! I don't want to have to suffer through this! There's people with like, half their brain gone and they chose to live, but I'm only ten! Why the hell do I need to deal with this?!" Stan ranted.

"You have to stay here though Stan. You're only ten, like you said. You still have a life ahead of you! What about Wendy?" I pointed out.

"Well Kyle, what if I didn't particularly want to stay?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" I asked in confusion.

"I mean, what if I don't choose to stay here? What if God just takes me and-"

"Shut up Stan. Don't talk like that. You're living."

"But-"

"SHUT UP STAN!" I hysterically cried into those tiny things I call "hands".

"You don't have to cry about it..." Stan said.

"You can't leave me to deal with Cartman by myself! Kenny isn't that much help! YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE ME HERE ALONE AND EXPECT ME TO DEAL WITH IT!"

"Why can't you just find a new best friend?" He asked. I looked at him in shock.

"You don't just find another best friend Stan. Have you been living under a rock?!"

"Well, you're gonna have to learn how to deal..." Stan said, ignoring my last sentence.

"Or you can stay here and not ditch me." I pointed out again.

"Kyle this is starting to stress me out. Can we just not talk about death for a few minutes?" Stan said, and silence was brought on. It lasted for about two minutes, until I patted Stan's shoulder.

"You're not leaving me here, by the way."

A/N: Give me a freakin' break, it's 1:30 AM and I'm exhausted, but I don't want to go to sleep. See my dilemma? XD