Disclaimer: I do not own South Park; it is the property of Matt Stone and Trey Parker.

Stan stared up at the door, surrounded by bright red brick. It had been a while since he'd seen his friend, and a bit of guilt ate at him for procrastinating a visit so much.

Sucking on his teeth, Stan hesitantly knocked on the door.

A voice immediately called, "One moment sweetie, I'll be right there!" Before he could think to back out, the door opened revealing one of South Park's very few openly gay residents. Big Gay Al looked down at Stan, and a smile lit up his whole face. "Stanley, it's so good to see you," he sang, leaning over to hug the boy.

Stan was surprised to find himself returning the gesture. "Hey Big Gay Al, it's been a while, huh?"

The older man tittered, "No kidding. Why don't you come on in, hun." He stepped back and held the door open for Stan. The boy peered around the house curiously. He hadn't visited since the after-party Al and Mr. Slave had thrown once they got married. He wasn't surprised to see that it was updated with all of the latest fashions and furniture.

"I'm guessing you've been watching the new season of Queer Eye?" he asked, recalling how he'd heard the show had somehow managed to gain a second season, despite the now very public knowledge that the hosts were all crab people in disguise.

"Guilty," he said. "Only when Slave isn't home though. He doesn't like the show very much. Brings up memories of his old flame."

Stan nodded. A sleek black feline approached him, purring and rubbing against his leg. Stan grinned and picked him up, scratching the cat beneath his chin and cooing, "Hey Bono, it's been a while, huh? You're getting really big!"

"Well, it has been three years since you last saw him. Not quite that scrappy little kitten you brought to me anymore, is he?" Al said with a chuckle.

Heat touched Stan's cheeks at being called out, and he looked up at his friend. "About that… I'm really sorry for not coming by more often, Big Gay Al."

He smiled and patted Stan's shoulder. "You're here now, and that's what matters. Can I ask what made you come by today?"

"I…" Stan looked down at the cat in his arms. He still wasn't quite sure how to go about asking for advice on the matter. Did he trust Al enough to tell him his secret? Well… yea, but would Al keep it a secret? Stan wasn't so sure.

Seeing Stan's troubled expression, Big Gay Al piped up, "Here now, why don't you take Bono over to the couch and sit down, and I'll start us both some cocoa. How does that sound?"

Stan smiled softly, "That sounds super."

Al winked at him and skipped over to the kitchen, "Brb!"

With Bono still settled in his arms, Stan stepped over to the brown leather couch and eased himself onto the cushion. Almost immediately two more cats—Blossom and Loki—mewed and wandered over to him. Stan laughed as Blossom curled up on his lap, and Loki hopped up on the couch behind him, batting at the poof ball on his hat. Even after the rough time he'd been having lately, being with animals—gay or otherwise—always made Stan happy.

Loki began to attack his hat more vigorously. "Hey buddy, careful. This is my favorite hat," the boy said, unable to help the laughed in his voice.

"Here comes cocoa!" Al sang, carrying two mugs into the room. Spying Stan's predicament, he chuckled. "Loki, dearest, I think that's enough." The gray feline perked at that, leaving Stan to go curl up next to Al once he settled on the couch.

Stan took the mug gratefully, careful to avoid dislodging the cat in his lap and the cat in his arms. "Thanks." He sipped at it, then hummed pleasantly at the chocolatey taste.

"I always find that a nice warm mug of hot chocolate helps to soothe my nerves. That or a bit of alone time with the hubby. Oop, I'm so bad," he teased, and Stan felt his guard begin to fall. It was hard to remain tense when surrounded by cats and in the company of probably the most harmless man on the planet.

"So, how have you been, Big Gay Al?"

"I've been just super, thanks for asking. Saving one little gay animal at a time, spending time with my wonderful little Slavey-pie, and decorating the house in my spare time."

Stan grinned, "So you still have the sanctuary going then? I wasn't sure."

Big Gay Al nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes. Fortunately, I don't have quite as many animals under my care, since people have become so much more progressive lately. It really is just so heartwarming." He crossed a leg over his knee and turned a bit more towards Stan. "How about you, sweetie, how have you been?"

The boy looked down into his drink, unable to meet his friend's gaze. "That's… that's kinda why I came over today, actually. Things have been really hard lately, and I'm… I need some advice."

Al settled his mug on the coffee table and gave Stan his undivided attention. "Well, I promise I'll do my very best to give you good advice," he said sincerely.

Stan smiled. "I know, that's why I came to you." He set his mug down after taking one more sip, than let out a slow breath. His hands shook in Bono's fur as he held the cat. "I…" he gulped. "I'm not really sure how to start."

"Start wherever you want, Stanley, I'm not going to judge."

"Okay, I… okay…" God, why was this so hard? He should have planned what he wanted to say beforehand. Stan was silent for a few minutes as he worked up his courage, kneading his fingers through Bono's fur. If he could just have a drink—a real drink—to settle his nerves.

To his credit, Al waited patiently the entire time, never once trying to prod Stan into speaking up. It wasn't until Stan looked up at him, silently pleading for a bit of help, that Al asked, "How can I help you feel more comfortable to talk, hun?"

"If… if I ask you something, before I tell you what it is, can I have your word you won't tell anyone else? Not my parents, or the school, or… or even Mr. Slave?"

Big Gay Al was silent for a minute, mulling over the request. "I… don't know honey, are you going to tell me something that puts other people in danger?"

Stan shook his head.

"Are you going to tell me something that puts yourself in danger?"

Stan hesitated, then shrugged.

The older man frowned. "Stan, if you're doing something dangerous, don't you think your parents should know?"

"It's not, ah, dangerous persay. I mean, I have it mostly under control, I just…" He spared a quick glance toward Al's concerned expression, then she shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to put that strain on you."

Now Al was very worried. "Stan, you can tell me, and I promise I will wait until you've explained yourself before deciding to do anything. But if it still seems too dangerous, I won't promise that I'll keep it to myself."

Stan was torn. He knew Al was right, and there still was that part of him that wanted others to know about his drinking problem, even if it was a small part. But the thought of his parents—of his mother finding out… And Kyle. What would Kyle even think of him, knowing he was an alcoholic? He clenched his jaw as he thought, unsure if he should confide in Big Gay Al. Finally, he said, "Okay. Okay, I'll tell you. But you have to promise me that you will listen to everything I have to say first, before you make any judgements. Then, if you still think that I need help, you will try to help me by yourself first, before telling anyone else. You have to swear on… on your marriage that you will only tell other people as a last resort."

Big Gay Al thought over Stan's words. He was pretty sure he could do all of that. If Stan did need help, Al would do his best to help him anyways, so he didn't think Stan was asking for anything unreasonable. "Alright Stanley, I promise."

Once he began to talk, the words just flowed out of him, and he found himself unable to stop them. During his entire speech, Stan stared down at Bono, terrified of what he might see if he looked at Al. "Okay, so… two years ago, I was diagnosed with Asperger's. You probably remember 'cause the whole town went crazy over it, and the news… well, anyways. These guys forced me to drink alcohol, and it made all of the shit and sadness I was feeling go away. And I got really, really, really drunk, because it felt so good, and I hadn't felt good in a long time, you know? 'Cause at the time my parents were planning to get divorced, and my friends abandoned me and my—" a lump formed in his throat, but he choked it back, "—my best friend told me that he didn't want me around anymore. And I just… it felt like I was suffocating, and numb, and the entire world around me was shit. I stopped eating hardly anything, because it all looked and tasted like crap. My asthma got so much worse, to the point where I was kicked from the football team. I lost a lot of weight… my mom was so worried, I think that was partially the reason she got back with my dad."

Tears were streaming down Stan's face, and he tried to focus intensely on Blossom's purring against his knees so he wouldn't start sobbing openly. "I started sleeping all the time, because I stopped dreaming and it was the only way I could get away from the constant shit. I stopped being able to hear people, it was just shit. And then… and then they made me drink, and I was happy? I saw Kyle again, and he was just Kyle! He was my best friend in the whole wide world. I just—" he paused and buried his face against Bono's fur, sucking in rough breaths. When he spoke, his voice came out muffled, "For two months every time I looked at Kyle, or anyone else, it was shit. It just felt so good to see him again. And then… then he told me he didn't have time for me. And the universe dropped out from under me. I was replaced."

Stan lost it for a few minutes, weeping hysterically against the cat in his arms. Bono just licked his hand in response, and Blossom purred like a motorboat against his lap. When he had somehow gained some semblance of control, Stan continued, "It hurt so much when I was replaced. I'd been dealing with nothing but shit, alone, for months, and when I finally managed to break through, Kyle didn't want me anymore. He'd rather be with Cartman of all people." He fell silent, breathing slowly through Bono's fur smushed against his face. "I tried to pretend like everything was okay. I did, Al. I wanted to move on, because I wanted to get away from everything… then mom came up and decided to stay with my dad, even though I know they still can't stand each other the majority of the time. Or… it's like my mom just resigned herself. Like she doesn't think she deserves to find happiness or have her own life without my dad, because it's what she's known for… for years."

He closed his eyes and leaned back, settling his head against the back of the couch. "Anyway, things went back to… whatever normal is, and everyone forgot I had this thing. But it was still there. And I know addiction runs in my family. My grandpa was addicted to gambling, my dad's an alcoholic idiot, and I… well, I've already experienced addiction with a few different games. I didn't want to be another. So I dealt with it. I didn't drink, and the world was shit, and I put on a fake face… but I still couldn't eat, Al. I would just give this plate of what looked and smelled like shit to Sparky under the table when no one was looking. I just couldn't stomach it. And cause I wasn't eating, I got sick a lot, so I'd miss school. I faked it until I couldn't, and I started hating everything. Then I began to think that if the world was just going to be shit for the rest of my life, why the fuck would I want to live in it?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him, and Stan opened his eyes to stare blankly up at the ceiling. "Don't worry. I didn't. I mean, I thought about it… but I didn't want to do that to my mom. She was… during the entire time, she was the only person who was never shit." Stan sniffed. "So I stole my dad's beer. And for the first time in… I don't know how long, but things were better. I felt brighter. I could actually eat again. I smiled." It was such a small thing, but remembering the first time Stan had smiled after he got buzzed… it made his heart ache.

"I'm pretty careful about it, now. I only drink enough to get buzzed, most of the time. Sometimes I'll drink too much, and then regret it later. But the world isn't shit, and I can actually spend time with people and enjoy them. I'm not a cynical asshole once I've had a couple drinks, and…"

Stan sat up, then forced himself to look at his friend. Big Gay Al had tear streaks down his face, and he looked like he wanted nothing more than to just scoop Stan up and hug him tightly. "Anyways, now I'm an alcoholic at twelve years old. Yet I still manage it better than my fucking dad, who gets shit-faced drunk every chance he gets. And the alcohol helps me cope with my depression and makes it so I can actually function and be happy." He forced out a barking laugh. "And you know what? This isn't even what I was planning to talk to you about when I came over here. God, I'm such a fuck-up."

It was then that Stan did feel Al's arms wrap about him and pull him into a hug. He was surprised when something wet hit his cheek, and he looked up to see that Al was crying. "Oh honey. Oh you poor, sweet, wonderful boy." It felt a bit awkward at first, until Stan realized that it was actually sort of… nice, to be held. "I'm so sorry you have to deal with that, sweetie. And I cannot tell you how completely grateful I am that you felt safe and comfortable enough to tell me."

Silence, then, "Are you going to tell my parents?"

All pulled back from him and settled his hands against Stan's shoulders. "I promised you that I would leave that as a last resort, and I don't break my promises."

"Are you… disappointed in me?" Stan asked, his voice wavering a little.

Big Gay Al gave a watery chuckle. "Stanley, you were the first person in this town to accept me and be my friend. I don't really think you could disappoint me even if you tried."

"So, what do you think about all of this?"

"I think that it breaks my heart you've had to go through all of this alone, and that I want you to know I'm here to help and support you."

"What about… me being an alcoholic? Are you okay with that?" Stan asked.

Big Gay Al sighed. "Of course I can't be, Stanley, honey. You're so young, and I hate the thought of you being so dependent on something like alcohol, which could kill you if you aren't careful. However, I also couldn't even think of asking you to quit cold turkey, knowing what you were going through before you began drinking."

Stan blinked, mulling this over. "So… what do you think I should do, then?"

"Have you tried taking antidepressants?"

"I brought it up with my dad once. He said he didn't like the thought of drugging me up, and that only… only fags took meds for their emotions, instead of dealing with them like a real man."

"And your mother?"

Stan stared down at his lap. "I asked her about it, and she tried to talk about it with my dad. They ended up fighting for two weeks, before she finally gave in and said that it's probably better not to medicate kids anyways."

For the first time ever, Stan thought that Al actually looked annoyed. "I'm sure she means well, but that is just so super irresponsible."

The boy shrugged. "It is what it is."

Al huffed, clearly not satisfied with that answer. Before he could offer another suggestion though, Stan said, "Actually, there were a few other things that I really wanted to talk to you about. Could I maybe ask you about those first, before we get into this?"

Though Big Gay Al would have preferred to continue on the topic, he conceded. "Very well. What's on your mind, Stanley?"

Mmm, sorry for the long wait between updates. Life got a bit hectic between now and the last.

This chapter was not intended to go this way originally. Next chapter is probably going to be a lot closer to what I was shooting for, but I just started writing this and couldn't stop. Plus, I really think that Big Gay Al is one of the very few genuinely positive role models in South Park, without a lot of extra baggage, and I wanted him to be the one Stan opens up to.

Anyways, last chapter I mentioned a special celebration was in order for reaching my tenth chapter, and I'm still game, so here it is:

I have decided that I will be holding a bit of a reward for my readers of this story. To enter the "contest" simply leave a review with your thoughts on one of my chapters, and that's it! You don't even have to follow or favorite, though both are certainly appreciated.

It just makes my day when I see reviews, so I figure this is a good way to get some and still hopefully have them be genuine.

Anyways, I will be taking all of the names of reviewers and entering them once into a random generator. I'll then generate two people at random, so everyone has a fair shot, and those will be the winners.

Once two have been picked, I will message each winner privately (so please review from an account, not anon), letting them know.

Winners will receive the prize of a one-shot story, written by me. They will be allowed to select up to two characters (preferably from South Park, though I am open to other fandoms if I'm familiar with them) as well as send me a one to two sentence prompt (if they so desire), and I will write them a story, which will include their username as a credit.

So once more, in case it was unclear, the rules:

1) Leave a review on this story.

2) It must be from an account, not anon.

And that's it! Deadline will be when Chapter 11 is posted. Best of luck to all, and if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading my work and sticking with me.