A.N-Sorry for the slow update! But this is the end, no more waiting after this! Super thanks to all of you who reviewed! I know that it won't be an ideal ending for all of you but I hope you enjoy and read to the end. Oh, and in the story there are three days left but I only wrote two of them.

Despite being the last chapter this is one of the shorter chapters. Sorry.

Disclaimer: For the last time I don't own South Park or any of the characters. Also the lyrics to the song, it's by My Chemical Romance.

There's always a small contradiction between truth and reality. That is one thing I learnt during my time here. I also learnt that that small contradiction can change everything, and that it can hurt as hell.

ooo

I remember the first day I walked into this house. I was filled with excitement, doubt and anxiety, but I didn't even dream that something like this would happen. This, clichéd love triangle or whatever. Urgh. When you put it that way it sounds so cheap and ridiculous, but it happened, and it messed up my mind like hell.

Now, I walk into the house with a completely different feeling. Loneliness. The remaining three of us, me, Stan and Craig, stand here, observing the house. It seems much bigger, from emptiness, than it did a few minutes ago. Now that Tweek, Butters and Kenny have all left, all that is left now is us three, caught up in this weird whirl of crazy emotion. And strangely enough, it is me that can get all of us out.

I feel the cameras zoom in on us as we stare into the lounge room, and for the first time since the day that we got here, I feel unbearably exposed. It suddenly reminds me of the reality that this is a show, a form of entertainment: nothing more, nothing less. I would hate to admit it, but maybe Kenny was right. Maybe we are just characters that play the part in a show with a script written by Cartman. The show of the screwed up triangle of two ravens and a shrimp, how humorous.

Just the thought makes my insides boil with rage. The last thing I want is to be one of Cartman's puppets, but I won't be able to forgive myself if I let his existence influence my actions. I came here for a purpose and I also have new things that I have to get straight. And I won't let my hatred for Cartman get in the way of that. If that makes me an interesting character, and if that makes Cartman satisfied, then so be it.

ooo

Thinking, preparing, avoiding, time flies as fast as a cheetah running for its prey. Before I know it, it is night and I'm in front of Stan's bedroom door, breathing into the smooth wood, my breath all shaky and nervous. This can either lead to a new beginning, or it can end everything. To tell the truth, I'm not even sure of what that kiss was about. We haven't talked properly since then and I haven't asked him what it meant. Did it mean that he liked me? After all this time that I thought my feelings for him were a one-way road? Or was he just caught up in the heat of the moment? After the heat of the kiss fades and after my head cools down, those are the questions that I begin to ask myself. But I won't get any answers just by standing here.

My hand swims around the surface of the door, preparing to knock. It's a funny thing, actually. Although I won't laugh. Every time I want to go into Stan's room my fist swims around aimlessly. I guess, after all this time wanting to become friends with Stan again, I was the one doubtful of the relationship that we were developing. And I know now, that it was all because of my feelings towards him that were not dealt with.

My hand pauses in its spot and it clenches into a tight fist.

I knock.

"Stan," my voice breathes. "Can I come in?"

I bite my bottom lip as my lungs stop frozen. Every second that passes waiting for Stan's response feels like a whole minute. And with my breathing stopped, I feel like I'm arriving an inch from death.

And he finally says: "Sure."

My body instantly releases its tension when I hear his voice. My lungs let out a breath of relief and realisation.

Okay. Here I go.

Breathe in.

The sound of the door creaking open enters my ears, and yet again it seems much too loud. Before I know it the door is wide open and there's nowhere for me to hide from the boy sitting on his bed. I feel exposed again. I can barely see anything in the dark room, but the light of the corridor that shines on my back almost feels like a spotlight that shines me up on an intimidating stage. It's nearly enough to take away all my courage.

I stop and wonder for a second. What I'm about to say, would it do anything to make Stan feel better? I guess that all depends on the feelings he has towards me.

"Stan," I begin, calling his name carefully and quietly, but firmly.

"Kyle." He replies. I can vaguely see his lips twitch in an attempt of a smile in the dark. But it fails.

"Stan… I," But my words are stuck there, just before my lips. Standing here in the doorway is ridiculous. What I'm about to say is nothing short and simple. It needs to be a proper conversation… Because this is meant to be between the both of us, and it's the first time I'm telling him my feelings.

I let out a sigh and restart myself.

I straighten up my back, nice and tall, at least as tall as I can manage, and shut the door behind me. Without the corridor light the room is nearly pitch dark. My footsteps seem to echo around me as I walk towards Stan sitting on his bed.

He seems surprised by my actions, or my sudden confident attitude. But I try to ignore his startled expression. I stop at the edge of his bed, turn around and place myself on the mattress.

Do I seem calm to him? I keep my face firm, my eyes almost glaring into the empty atmosphere. But in reality, my heart is beating a hundred and twenty times per minute. My teeth are nearly chipping away from keeping my jaw firmly locked. I can feel sweat forming on the back of my neck, behind my red hair. But that is all okay. Stan can't see it. If I look strong and confident to him, then it's all okay.

I stay put on the edge of the bed, feeling Stan's gaze and feeling my insides slowly chip away. I try and gather up my thoughts and feelings, and words that can express them.

"Stan," my head turns to face the raven boy automatically. How many times have I called his name now? The muscles in my face lose control. I can feel the confidence and strength slip away from my face. And I'm lost with what to say.

We sit there, on his bed, in silence for a while, a minute, or an hour. I slowly feel my eyes adjust to the dark. My mind seems oddly soothing, like a cool wind has just washed past my mind. And then a flush of memory pops up in my brain. I accidently blow out an instant laugh, my hand unable to hold it in as I hold my mouth shut.

"What?" Stan jumps, his voice more lively than it was a few minutes ago. And that is such a relief.

"It's nothing. I just remembered something from when we were small." My voice is still jolty with laughter. But Stan looks at me with confusion and suspicion, which calms my laughter. So I tell him.

"Stan, do you remember that time we got lost in the woods for like, a whole day?"

The suspicion on his face dissolves into a stronger colour of confusion. "…Yeah"

With my gaze still fixed to the ground my eyes soften into a light smile. Because I can see Stan and myself of that day, lost in the woods.

"It took us a while to notice that we were lost. I said that we should stay where we were, because that's what you're meant to do when you're lost. But do you remember what you said? Nothing. You ignored me and grabbed my hand and took us deeper into the woods."

I take a moment of silence to remember the warmth of the memory. The warmth of his hand sinking into my skin, the determination that could be felt from his back; I wasn't in love with him then, but I knew that he was the one person in the world that I could trust forever. And something, the air of that moment maybe, told me that he was one person who I'd be with forever.

"I followed you absentmindedly. Somehow, the second you took my hand the ridiculousness of walking deeper into the woods left my mind. And then guess what? A few hours later you led us onto the road that took us back to South Park."

It was already pitch dark by the time we reached the road. But the sky was clear without a single cloud. I knew that because the sky was coated with a sheet of shining stars, which lit the road all the way home.

But now, it's pitch black in this room without any light to show me the way. But there's one thing that's the same. Stan is right beside me. The one person I'll trust forever. And that makes me feel likes there's nothing to be afraid of.

My fingers search the bed-sheets until it finds Stan's hand. The hand that led me when I was lost. I squeeze it.

"Stan, do you remember two years ago when I stopped talking to you?"

His hand twitches in my grip and I take that as a 'yes'.

"It wasn't your fault," I say, "it was mine."

I see Stan's eyes jump up and meet mine. But there's no more hiding. My eyes seem to have adjusted quite a lot to the dark. I take in his gaze, firmly, and squeeze his hand a little more. To let him know.

I'm serious, Stan.

"I fell in love with you." As embarrassing the word 'love' is, I use it, because it doesn't need an explanation. "I found out that I loved you and I thought that it was wrong."

His hand in mine feels like it turned to stone. It even seems like he has stopped breathing. Yeah… I bet it's a shock.

"I joined this show to get rid of that feeling, so I could become normal friends with you again. But Stan, I… When…" Emotional management is not one of my strong points and right now, the frustration of not being able to tell him, not having the courage to tell him is going to make my head explode.

Before I know it I am out of breath from being too nervous. I use a few seconds to calm down. I don't even know how he feels, so why am I so under pressure?

"It worked…" A voice gasps. My voice. "It worked Stan."

I pull my legs onto the bed and crawl a few inches closer to Stan. I bring my other hand to the one clenched onto Stan's and wrap it tightly. So tightly, that I feel Stan's hand in my hold vibrate under my shaking. I shut my eyes and rest my forehead on our connected hands. I can't help it.

"I love you Stan, but I'm not in love with you anymore."

How he would take my words is all up to how he feels about me. But I'm not about to ask him. Unless he wants to say it, I don't think it's necessary.

A small chuckle sways the cool air in the room. It lifts my head up and I look into Stan's face. There's a small smile there, though I can't exactly say what it indicates.

"I was sort of expecting that." Another chuckle and another smile, and this time our eyes meet. They're shiny; his sapphire eyes shine… I can't hold myself in anymore.

"Stan!" My whole body pounces on him before my brain sends any orders. "I love you!" My arms wrap around him and send him grinding into the mattress. "I'm so sorry Stan!" I'm almost crying. "I'm so sorry I suddenly stopped talking to you!" It feels like the first time in years that our feelings connected. "I love you Stan! I love you! I love you!" I can't control my actions or my words. And I'm not about to try. "I love you so much dude." Because I've finally reconnected with him.

"Yeah. I love you too Kyle." His words leak out of his smile. A smile! Bright as hell! It makes my hug even stronger from joy. I haven't seen that smile in ages. But I soon loosen my grip and pull myself up, looking down on him. His hair is all messed up from my tackle, his pajama top is basically ripped off and his face is bright red from the sudden excitement.

A soft smile tints my lips.

"Stan, we're friends right?"

"Yeah."

"We're Super Best Friends right?"

"Yeah…Always."

I can sort of understand why Stan doesn't have the light on now. The moonlight shining through the window is enough to light up the whole room, once you get used to it. I can see Stan's face now, clear as day.

I can taste my tears that leak through my wide grin but I don't care. For once I'm showing my emotions without holding back. It's two years worth.

ooo

I leave Stan's room about an hour later. All calmed down after lying next to him in bed, like we used to. Like when I sneaked into Stan's room at night and snuggled into his bed next to him and like when he did to me.

When I close his bedroom door I begin to hear soft plucking of guitar strings. And when I notice the melody I let out a light sour chuckle. The irony.

I begin to whisper the song with his fading guitar as I walk away from his room.

"When you go would you have the guts to say 'I don't love you, like I loved you yesterday'…"

Yeah. I had the guts all right…

My mind is soothed with satisfaction, but it is also heavy from unexplainable loneliness, like the feeling of graduating school. The goodbyes you say and the small expectations for the next school. I said goodbye to my feelings towards Stan, but I know that it would lead to a better friendship. It's sort of sad, but the relief and happiness is greater.

Then why do I feel so empty?

Walking through the lit up corridor, my feet take me to the white leather couch in the lounge room. I don't know if it's because I don't want to be alone or if it's because I want to be alone, but either way he's there, on the couch, glaring out the dark window.

He doesn't seem to notice me enter the room, so when I take the other half of the couch he swings his head towards me in surprise, like a reflex. But I don't meet his gaze. His widen eyes relax into his natural emotionless state as I ignore his changing facial expressions.

Neither of us open our mouths to talk. I don't feel like it yet and I think that Craig is not willing to force anything out of me. The thought leaves us in silence for nearly an hour. It's strange. I feel like I could sit here with Craig in silence for hours. If Stan is someone I can stay up all night talking to, then Craig is someone I can stay with for hours without words.

But I know that I have to tell him.

"I just talked to Stan"

He makes a noise at the back of his nose.

"I told him that I don't love him."

That catches his attention. He turns his head again with wide eyes, this time meeting mine. He's surprised. I could almost laugh at his blank expression but I won't. I don't think this is a laughing matter.

"That's all" I finish. I want to tell him more and I can tell that he's aching to ask. But I don't feel like saying any more. I just want to sit here in silence, next to him.

I think he understands my wish when I hold his hand.

ooo

I take one step back and take a good look of the clean bedroom, good as new. Say goodbye to the room Kyle. It's not like I have special attachments to the room or the whole house or anything, I mean, in the end we were only here for twenty days. But it's funny how only twenty days can make you change.

"Kyle! Are you done yet? We're leaving."

"Okay!" I call out to Stan's voice and hurry out the room, not bothered to give it a last glance.

As I rush through the corridor the lounge room catches my eye. Through the large window I can see the lake in the distance shining off the summer sun. Beautiful weather.

"What took you so long?" A cool voice says. I apologise and squeeze in between the two ravens standing just outside the house. A wide grin is on my face. I can feel my green eyes light up. Beautiful weather. I feel as light as a feather, the cool breeze will take me away. Even Cartman standing in front of us with an ugly smirk won't dampen my spirits. But the second he opens his mouth, my smile fades.

"Contestants-" He welcomes at the top of his lungs, arms wide. Contestants, characters, dolls, puppets; what a joke. "I am so glad to see you three standing before me at this wonderful ending-" You planned from the start that it would be us three standing here at the end. "I congratulate you whole heartedly-" We don't need your congratulations. It makes us sick. But then he pauses, resting his arms to his side again. And his grin widens, expressing his repulsive pleasure. "But there will be only one winner." He finishes.

I make a ticking sound with my throat in disgust. I know what he's hoping for. He's hoping that we would get at each other's throats for the winning prize. Whatever it was. That's funny. I don't even remember what the prize was. A million bucks?

"Well sorry fatass, but I don't even care who wins and gets the prize if that's what you're thinking about." He twitches at my voice. For a second I imagine him beginning to shout at me or glare at me, but to my horrible surprise, his grin widens. Maybe he thinks that that's what I think, but the other two are willing to fight for the prize?

"I don't care either," Stan says.

"I don't give a shit." Craig mumbles.

I smile, and give Cartman a challenging look. But his grin is still there, it's even widening.

"Well, that's nice" He says. But why is he acting so confident? If he's not expecting us to fight, then what does he want? I can't get that doubt out of my head, and apparently it's clearly showing on my face.

Kenny's words echo in my head again. But I can't think that all Cartman wants is to create an interesting show and show it to the world. I can't help but think that he wants to personally humiliate me, no matter how unobvious that would be to others. Despite the fact that I've been showing myself on the Internet for the last twenty days, I mean, that's pretty humiliating. But that was my own choice; I chose to be on this show. There must be something behind this, something that I have no choice in.

A loud cough draws me out of my thoughts and I'm back to listening Cartman's stupid voice. He grins.

"I would like to announce the winner of this competition! Don't you think it's cool that there aren't any stupid fucking commercials?" I wish I could just rip that grin off his face. He takes a plain white envelope out of his suit's pocket and opens it. I think this is meant to be a spit-swallowing, heart-thumping, nerve-racking moment. But my mind is still stuck with Cartman's plan.

I watch him as he takes a sheet of paper out of the envelope, slowly, dramatically. It's all just an act. He would know whose name's written on there. He knows…

"Ha!" Then it comes to me. Yeah, that would be pretty humiliating. "Wait a minute fatass!"

His hand pauses, just before a name reaches the tip of his tongue. "What?" He glares. And I smile.

"I'm dropping out!" I shout. Was that just me, or did I just see Cartman gasp? My smile widens. "You already knew whose name's written on that paper. Because you're the one who chose who won!"

"What the fuck are you talking about shrimpy-Jew! The winner is chosen by the viewers who vote on my website!" He gives me a death glare, which is much more comfortable to me than an ugly smirk.

"No, you had already chosen from the beginning who would win. And I'm stopping you." I walk up to him, my footsteps quick and firm. A smirk twitches my nose when I see beads of sweat on his cheek. "From the beginning to the end, you just wanted to humiliate me." I give his chest a light poke.

"Wha… You should get your head out of your own ass Jew. As if I would do all this just for you."

I guess out of all this time he's worried what his viewers would think. That's funny. He's no different to commercial television.

"If the eliminations were really chosen by the viewers votes and the winner is really fairly chosen, then winning money off you would be no fuss. But if it were all controlled by you, the eliminations and the winner, then it would mean that you always had absolute control. No choice for us. It won't be winning a prize, it would be donation from you. I won't be able to take that humiliation."

I glare ice into his eyes and watch the confidence and strength melt away from him. He tries to laugh to cover up his sweat but it's pathetic. What a fail.

"You are just saying that because you know that you're not the winner." He challenges. But I see the piece of paper in his hand scrunched up and hidden. I reply to him with a smile.

"No, I just don't want your charity."

I step away from Cartman, hearing his grinding teeth. And he calls to my back pathetically, as if he could fall any lower.

"Just remember that if you're quitting then you don't get anything! No one million, no fifty thousand and no ride home!" The last one stops my feet. When I turn back, I see a small smirk returning to his face. "Yeah, you heard me! You have to walk home alone, all the way through the woods and down the mountain."

Damn it. What an unbelievable bastard. Does he know how long it would me to walk back to South Park?

"I know that! I'm not counting on you to drive me home anyway!" But it's clearly a bluff. With my temper dampened and my stomach boiling I stomp to my suitcase and swing it up, forgetting its unbearable weight. The suitcase brings me down, nearly pulling my arm out of its socket, but before I hit the ground a firm hand lifts my bag off of me and holds me steady in the air.

"I'll carry it." A monotone voice says, which makes my heart skip a beat.

I tug on my suitcase in attempt to snatching it back, but when I look up, my eyes get lost in a deep ocean-blue and my protesting mouth is sealed close by another. It takes me a while to notice that it's a kiss.

The heat that flows into me is immense and I soon feel like drowning. It goes on for a second, or a lifetime. When my mouth is finally released my face is boiled red in this hot summer's day.

I forget to protest as the bag slides out of my fingers, but my feet stay on the ground when I'm let go.

"You got one thing wrong fatass." Craig says coolly after giving me one light smirk. "He's not walking home alone. I quit too."

In the corner of my eye I see Cartman's small grin completely drop off a cliff. But Craig ignores that. He simply carries my suitcase and heads toward the entrance of the forest. Ha. How cool does he need to act?

"Wait up, asshole!" A much more lively voice cries. "I quit too! That's a Super Best Friend's job!" And the other six-footer rushes past me and elbows Craig in the back.

A laugh breaks my silence. I can't help it. A bright, loud laugh escapes my lips and I can't hold it in. I can feel Cartman glare daggers into me and I feel Stan and Craig's confused gaze but I can't help it. I laugh.

"Hey! Wait up!" Laughing, my small feet rush towards the two entering the woods. It's a long way to go to South Park. We don't have any time to stop and listen to Cartman's shouting and swearing. "I can hold the damn suitcase myself!" But the two swing the suitcase out of my reach as if appealing to my short height. My laughing stops and I grind my teeth and now it's their time to start laughing.

Inside the woods is dark. The bright light of the sky barely leaks through the heavy treetops, but the small dots of light painted on the footpath are just enough to lead us home. By the time we get home it will be pitch-dark. I will collapse on my bed, ignoring Ike's rants and my parent's welcome back. I will send Tweek, Butters and Kenny a text to thank them and say that I came out all fine. In the middle of the night, after my family had gone asleep, I will sneak out and go to Stan's house for the night like when we were kids, because I remember the warmth and cosiness of his bed. Then tomorrow I will go to Tweak bros and say hey to the blond and ask Craig for the most confusing order on the menu. But that is not until after we hike out of these woods with blisters on our feet.

And before that…

I stop bouncing in frustration, aiming for my suitcase, and freeze on my spot, blocking Craig's way instead. Concerned by my sudden silence, Craig leans down to look into my face.

Now!

I take that small opportunity to grab onto the collar of his shirt and yank him down…

A second later a let him go and lightly lick my lips. I can feel my face boiling from embarrassment, but I try to ignore it. I give my lips a quick wipe and hide my scarlet cheeks. But I can't help but give him a challenging smirk. There. "You weren't expecting that were you?"

He looks at me blankly, his normally frozen jaw slightly hanging loose.

"That's for treating me like a weak shrimp, Craig."

I steal my suitcase off his dangling hand and make my way through the lightly lit up woods. A small hum escapes my nose as I leave the two six-footers standing dumbly with their mouths hang open.

Now it's my time to chuckle again. Oh how I hate reality shows.

A.N-The end! Thank you so much for reading this story till the end! You guys are awesome.

I'm sorry for those who wanted this to be Style, I mean, it's my favourite pairing as well. But I'm planning on writing a short sequel in Stan's P.O.V (maybe). What do you think? If you're interested please review! Even if you're not interested please review!

Lastly, thanks again for reading!