A/N: Okay so this chapter is split into two sections, it'll be fairly obvious but for some reason I'm always paranoid not forewarning you guys. Because anxiety? Idk.

This chapter has some characters we haven't messed around with in this story yet, so time for fun.

Enjoy~

Sitting in the Broflovski's living room, Kenny could feel the unbearable tension weighing down on all occupants. Kyle sat between himself and Ike on the couch, Sheila and Gerald watching their eldest son from the side with eyes that looked as lost as Kenny felt. Kyle's eyes hadn't faltered from the wall in nearly an hour, his entire being seeming bereft of anything that made the redhead who he was. His posture was slouched, the bright green of his eyes seemed unnatural surrounded by such a decimated expression.

"Bubbeleh," Sheila started carefully after a good ten minutes mulling over what Kyle had told them. And he'd told them everything right up to blowing Kenny. The blonde was more than thankful Kyle had left it at them kissing, not sure if he could handle Kyle's parents glaring at him in the midst of all this madness. "Honey, it's going to be okay," she said softly.

"I know," he said weakly. "It just..."

"Sucks," Ike finished. Kyle shut his eyes and nodded, his mind replaying Stan's words over and over. He never loved him. He just couldn't believe it. He never thought he'd be in this situation. He'd always figured if he and Stan broke up, it'd happen mutually at a calm level. One where, yes, it'd be awkward for a good while, but they'd jump back into their routine before long. He never thought that Stan of all people would be so apt to smash his ego into such tiny pieces, make him forget how strong he was and fall into such a fragile state.

Gerald sighed, tapping his finger thoughtfully on the arm of his lazy chair. "Is there anything we can do, Kyle?"

"I don't know," he whispered honestly.

Kenny hesitated for a moment before reaching over and grasping Kyle's slender hand in his own. He bit his lip as Kyle's palm slowly turned to meet his own, linking their fingers together delicately. "We're here for ya, Ky," he said softly, squeezing his hand.

"Thanks," he sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He looked at his parents with a forlorn expression. "What do I do?" he asked meekly.

Sheila wrung her hands together. This was the first time Kyle had been open about his relationship with Stan, and was the first one that he'd been in that required any kind of help. She'd been desperate to get into the knowledge of what her son had been doing, but now a part of her yearned to have skipped this altogether, just get Kyle back to a place where he was happy again. That part of her that was so easily thrown into a rampage to protect her children was being shoved down, knowing well enough that throwing more emotion onto the table might break Kyle in half at the rate he was faltering. "Sweetie...there's not much you can do," she said kindly. "You have to stick it out. It will get better, I promise. It's just going to take time."

His shoulders slunk further and he let out a long, shuddery breath. He figured that would be her answer, but a buried part of him had reverted back to when he was an emotionally-driven child, thinking his parents could solve every problem in the world. He longed for that to be his life once again. Gerald cleared his throat lightly and gave him a small smirk, "Stealing mine and your mother's alcohol is no way to start, Kyle." The boy's face burst into a blush, his eyes darting between them in fear before Gerald held up his hand. "Kyle, we're not stupid. You had your reasons. Don't think we never did the same thing when we were kids. Just...be careful about it," he winced. "You're seventeen and you're hurting. You're going to find stuff, just please don't make a habit of it. Or, at least, be safe about it." Kenny couldn't help but cringe, hoping to God that they couldn't see the outline of his flask in his pocket at that moment.

Kyle nodded slowly. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm just...lost," he admitted. "I-I never...expected this."

"None of us did, Ky," Ike said sympathetically, patting his knee. "Fuck, I never thought Stan would sink so low. I'm dropping out of hockey like a goddamn rock."

Kyle smiled as much as he could manage, knowing that Ike would bash 'Coach Marsh's' head in with his stick the moment he got the chance. "Don't," he said softly. "You love hockey. Stan has nothing to do with that and I know he won't hold me against you...just make sure to slam a puck into his shin now and again for me," he joked.

Ike smirked and nodded, "Will do."

Kenny squeezed his hand again, "Ya sure there ain't nothin' we can do?"

"Not unless you have a time machine," he shrugged, running his free hand though his hair, grimacing when he realized he hadn't brushed it since his and Kenny's little 'experiment'.

"I wish I did," he said softly, their eyes locking into one another's and such a longing look breaking through the two of them it was almost winding.

Ike snorted, catching their expressions, "Or you two can make out again. Take Stan off your mind that way."

Kyle cringed, blushing madly and looking at the floor in guilt. It was eating away at him. He knew he was a goddamn hypocrite through and through. He had no leg to stand on using Wendy against Stan anymore. At least, not in that context. Kenny watched him being eaten alive by his feeling and his chest twisted. He tried taking his hand back reluctantly, a part of him that he tried to hide desperately dancing with joy when Kyle refused to relinquish his body part back to him. They both weren't stupid. They knew what they did was wrong, but there were no regrets as to what they did, only how they did it.

Sheila frowned, "Ike, enough of that," she huffed. She directed her attention to the two embarrassed faces and watched them with a heavy heart. "Boys," she said softly, prompting them to look at her slowly. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with what you did," she assured them. "No one cheated on anyone, no one was hurt."

A moment of silence passed before Kyle croaked out, "Stan was hurt. I could see it..." he sighed, gripping Kenny's hand tighter. He was so torn. He wanted Stan to hold him and tell him he was lying when he said what he said. He wanted Kenny to just take him away from all this madness into the loving embrace that he'd perfected for the redhead. He was just so lost.

"And that happens," Gerald shrugged. "Was it the best scenario? No. But boys, you shouldn't feel guilty for feeling how you feel. That's not how the world works."

"If you're feeling something for each other, then expressing it is what you should do," Sheila continued. Kenny hid his face in his free hand, embarrassed out of his mind. His parents never gave him these kinds of talks, he had no idea what the hell to respond with aside from hiding, and Sheila reprimanded him for putting his hood up when talking to them so that wasn't an option. "Never ever feel ashamed of who you care for," she said firmly.

Kenny and Kyle looked at each other, both their faces reddened, their eyes screaming for something to say, but no words could come. They knew Kyle's parents were right, but that didn't stop them from seeing Stan's infuriated and saddened blue eyes in the back of their minds. It wasn't exactly the best start to any kind of relationship, that was for damn sure.

A knock at the door caught all their attention and Kyle sank back into the couch worriedly. He couldn't help but wonder if it was Stan again, petrified that merely seeing him would send him into a nervous breakdown. He could tell Kenny felt the same concern, holding his hand tighter and moving in closer towards him. Sheila made her way slowly to the door, pulling it open to a curly blonde head with a sad smile. "Bebe!" she said, surprised. She hadn't seen the girl since she and Kyle had broken up all that time ago.

"Hi, Mrs. Broflovski," she smiled sweetly. "I need to talk to Kyle if that's all right."

Sheila stole a glance at her son, "I-I don't know-"

"It's fine, Mom," Kyle said softly. Sheila hesitated before nodding, opening the door wider and letting the girl step into the room.

Her eyes landed on Kyle and she could feel her heart breaking from his devastated face. She made her way to the couch, Ike hopping out of the way and gesturing for her to take his seat. She smiled at him before sitting next to Kyle, gently wrapping her arms around him. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

"I've been better," he sighed, leaning his head against hers. There was a certain level of love Kyle had always had for Bebe, the same way as she had for him. In his world, however, it was never romantic. But he went to her for advice or just a generally pleasant conversation when Stan or Kenny just wouldn't do for the time being. He thought that he loved her for a while before he realized that girls just weren't his cup of tea, and he knew Bebe figured it out before he did. He'd always be thankful she never held that against him and stayed his friend.

Bebe nuzzled into his spiced scent, taking a deep breath. She looked to see his and Kenny's hands intertwined and a part of her wanted to scold them, but most of her wanted to just smile and thank the stars that Kyle realized which boy he would be better off with in the long run. She pulled back a bit and stared at the redhead, stroking her thumb over his shoulder. "Honey, you need to get out of the house tonight," she said simply.

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "I'm not going anywhere until I'm forced to go to school on Monday. Even then I'll have an issue," he shrugged.

She bit her lip, looking at Kenny with a look that screamed 'trust and help me'. Kenny understood immediately, shaking Kyle's atop his leg. "She's right, Ky," he offered. "Ya need t' git that sonnova bitch off yer mind."

"Ken...I-"

"Token's having a small get-together," Bebe interrupted. "It was supposed to be a full-blown party but it got downgraded."

Kyle raised his brow, "Really? I got the text earlier and figured it was going to be another rager of his."

She shook her head, "Nah, too short of notice. It'll be me, him, Cartman, Butters, Craig, Clyde, and Tweek. You and Kenny are the only other invited guests," she lied, keeping her gaze steady on his paled face.

"I-I don't think I'm in the mood, Bebe," he winced.

"Kyle, you should go," Sheila broke in and urged. He looked at her with a level of shock, knowing that she knew full and well what he'd probably be getting into if he went to hang out with friends. But she couldn't stand seeing Kyle coop himself up and she didn't know what else to do. She knew her son well enough to know that he knew his limits and to trust him, he'd never given her a reason not to. She would fuss and panic once he was out of the house, no doubt making a show for Gerald and Ike, but she knew it would be fruitless. She'd rather he be with friends and protected than locked in his room doing god knows what out of sight of anyone.

Kenny recovered from his own surprise at her encouragement, wondering briefly if it was really Sheila Broflovski who'd just spoken before he nodded briskly. "C'mon, Ky. We'll make ya forget all about that bastard."

He bit his lip, wanting to scream his head off and stomp off to his room, locking himself away forever. But he knew they were right. Sitting around moping wasn't going to fix a damn thing. Sitting around getting drunk, however, would boost his spirits at least for a good few hours. He looked to see all five sets of eyes pleading silently for him to go and to try to figure things out with friends, to be happy again and distracted, even it was only temporarily. He sighed defeatedly, wiping his burning eyes with his sleeve again and nodding, whispering a nearly silent, "Okay."

Stan's room was nearly pitch black, the only light streaming in from behind heavy curtains, and even that was just too much. A part of him had the inexplicable urge to dig out his black beanie and his old eyeliner from back when he was a kid, just immerse himself in his depression until it swallowed him whole again. His face was buried into his pillow, a sick part of him wondering if he could suffocate himself with it. He felt awful. He felt like a no good piece of shit. Telling Kyle those things is something he never wanted to do. The look on Kyle's face wouldn't leave his mind, those broken green eyes and that trembling lip so far from what he'd grown up with. That wasn't the Kyle he respected and cared so deeply about. That was a broken boy that had cracked under his hands, and he just felt awful.

A knock came at his door and he groaned in response, burying himself deeper into his pillow.

"Stanley?" his mom's voice broke through the darkness, a sliver of light breaking in from the hallway as she opened the door.

"What?" he responded miserably.

Sharon and Randy stepped into the room, watching their son carefully. "What happened, Son?" Randy asked, a can of beer clutched lazily in his hand. Stan could hear the aluminum crinkling under his fingertips, wanting nothing more than to swipe it and the rest of the goddamn 24 pack and drink himself into a coma.

"I messed up," he answered with a wavering voice. He heard them both moving towards him, the bed dipping a bit as one of them sat next to him. He felt fingers in his hair, recognizing his mother's touch right off.

"With Kyle?" she asked gently.

He sniffled and nodded. "I told him I never loved him," he admitted. The fingers stopped and he cringed into himself, practically feeling their judgmental stares falling onto him like a landslide.

"Did...did you mean it?" Randy asked, a part of him in absolute shock. He'd seen the two of them together, he thought they thought the world of each other. Getting over the initial uncomfortableness of the boys dating wasn't a very arduous journey when he saw them together looking like it was the most natural goddamn thing in the world.

Stan sniffled, slowly propping himself up out of his pillow and sitting on the sides of his legs, looking blankly at the comforter. "Yes and no," he whispered.

"What do you mean, Honey?" Sharon asked, her fingers back to working through his thick, black hair.

"I thought I loved him romantically but I didn't," he said tiredly. "I loved him like..."

"Like your best friend," she finished. He sniffled and nodded and his parents watched him sympathetically. "Honey, it's okay to feel like that."

He bit his lip and shook his head, tears leaking out of his eyes out of his control. "No, it's not," he protested. "It should've just happened. We should've..." he groaned, hiding his face in his hands childishly and shaking his head.

"Should've just fallen in love, gotten married, and gotten the whole 2.5 kids deal?" Randy guessed. Stan nodded meekly and his father sighed, knowing there wasn't enough beer in the world for this conversation to be easy. "Stan, it doesn't always happen like that."

"He's right," Sharon inputted. "Sweetie, you can't control how you feel."

"Though telling him was a bit shitty," Randy mumbled unwittingly, flinching as a dark glare from Sharon was shot at him, clearly visible even in the limited light.

Stan took a shuddery breath, shaking his head. "I know. I know I know I know I really fucked up telling him. I just...I can't figure out how to tell him how I feel without being a dick about it, ya know?" he asked, looking at them both again with glistening eyes. "What would you do?"

Sharon gathered him under her arm, Stan having to shrink himself down a bit to fit under her height but finding comfort in the gesture nonetheless. He hadn't had any kind of heart to heart with his parents in so long, but he desperately needed it right now. He needed any kind of guidance he could get. "You tell him the truth," she cooed, still stroking his hair. "Stan, why does it bother you so much that you don't love him?"

"Because he loves me," he whispered. "And I thought I loved him. And I do, but I'm not in love with him...I'm in love with Wendy," he murmured, looking at the bed guiltily. They both sighed silently, figuring that she'd worm her way into the conversation somehow.

Randy shifted his weight, watching his son carefully. "Did I ever tell you the story of my first girlfriend, Stan?" he asked. The boy shook his head and he smiled fondly. "Back when I was in high school, there was this girl named Tammy. We were pretty good friends. Not best friends like you and Kyle, but close enough we'd been buds for about three years," he shrugged. "Plus, she was hot and willing to do anything," he grinned, Sharon's eyes raising to his suspiciously, giving him the warning to not go into too many details less he walk out of the room with a black eye. He winked at her a bit before continuing. "Anyway, Tam and I were an inseparable couple for about five months. I was absolutely in love with her. And I told her on our six month anniversary. Know what she did?"

"What?" he looked at his dad with hopeful eyes.

"Told me to fuck off, broke off our friendship, never talked to me again," he shrugged casually, taking a long sip of his beer. "She broke my heart rejecting me." Stan's face fell further and Randy could see the panic flashing through his eyes, holding his hand up to stop him. "But...I survived," he said softly. "And I found your mother not long after and realized...I didn't love Tammy as much as I thought I did. I never forgave her for the way she shut me down, doing it so fucking cruelly, without remembering that we were friends before we were a couple. Kyle will forgive you if you approach this right, if you remind him that you two are more than just another failed couple," he raised his brow, tipping his beer can towards him.

He blinked, confused at his dad's ability to give actually relevant stories. It happened so rarely and he hadn't heard one in so long, but it seemed as though despite Randy's drunken stupor, he still knew his son needed him. It was enough to dumbfound him for a good few seconds before he shook it off, asking, "But how? There's no right way to tell a person you don't love them the same way they love you, right?"

"You're lucky here, Stan," Sharon input softly. "You do love Kyle, in your own way. You have to tell him that you care so much about him that you confused your feelings. He's a smart boy, you know that. He'll be upset, but he'll figure it out after awhile if you take the time to tell him correctly."

He wrung his hands together, grating his lip nervously. "What if...what if he doesn't? What if he does what Tammy did?"

They paused and let out a simultaneous sigh. "If he does, which I doubt he will knowing him," Randy raised his brow, "Then...you're better off." Stan's head dropped back down and he sniffled, unable to imagine how his world would be without Kyle involved in it somehow.

"Honey, you just have to get through this," Sharon encouraged. "It's going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot, but it'll eat you alive if you leave it where you did and you know it."

"I know," he whispered, looking up into Sharon's hazel eyes as they watched him pitiably. Sharon remembered the first time Stan had broken up with Wendy, how devastated her little nine year old had been. This one, however, seemed even worse, like Stan was literally missing a part of his soul. In a way, that was true. Kyle was too important in Stan's life for him to just go without him.

"Kyle loves you," she said firmly, feeling him slink and shaking him lightly. "And if he loves you, he'll listen. He'll understand. He'll be angry and he'll hurt, too, but you'll both be okay."

"You promise?" he whispered, feeling like a lost child.

She smiled and nodded and Randy smirked. "We promise, Kiddo," he inputted.

"Um, hi," a meek voice broke through. They all shot their heads to the door, seeing Wendy standing there shyly, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Hello, Wendy," Sharon said stoically, sighing to herself. She never liked the girl who kept tugging her son's heart around, but she knew that it was up to Stan to decide on his fate with her, much as she opposed it.

"Sorry I just came in," she bit her lip, knowing that she walked a fine enough line with Stan's parents and trying not to push her limits. "The door was unlocked and no one answered when I knocked..."

"It's fine, Wendy," Randy waved the notion away, gesturing for her to step inside.

She smiled gratefully, looking at Stan and taking a deep breath. "You okay, Hon?"

He shrugged listlessly. "I feel like shit, Wends."

"I can imagine," she murmured, keeping her distance from the two on the bed. She'd learned not to interfere when Sharon was touching Stan lest she get the glare of a very jealous mother inscribed on the back of her eyelids. "What do you want to do about it?"

He sniffed, looking between his parents who nodded encouragingly. "I...I wanna talk to him," he sighed defeatedly. "But he'll never want to..." he trailed off, looking into her grey eyes shining in the diluted sunbeams dancing through the curtains.

She sighed to herself in relief, pushing her prepared lies to the back of her mind, more than grateful they weren't necessary. She chuckled a bit and offered him a sad, understanding smile, "Well, if you really mean it, if you really want to try...then you need to clean yourself up."

A/N: I really wanted the parents all involved because losing your first few loves, you usually run to your parents after your friends fail to give you the answers. You know, if you trust your folks or whatever. Either way, I wanted them to give their own advice, because sometimes you need to hear it from someone older than yourself /shrug. It's a theory, anyway.

Next time is our final confrontation. Finally.

Shit's gonna be intense probably maybe not really. I have no clue. This shit is on a whim, people. I do what I can here.

Thanks for R&Ring!