It's been a while. Hopefully this chapter makes up for the major break.

South Park does not belong to me.

After Kyle left, Kenny lay back down in his bed and curled in on himself. The fetal position was the same one Kenny always found himself in when he came to life, although under the current circumstances, he felt a little more like he was dying.

Which, now that he thought about it, wouldn't be a bad way out of this. Dying, that is. Kenny didn't like the stabbing, shuddering pain in his chest, the low buzz of confusion in the back of his head, and simply playing in traffic to get himself out of here for a few days was beginning to sound like a good idea.

That'd sort of be taking the easy way out though, wouldn't it? Kenny had heard people say that that they just wanted to die after a breakup. In fact, he was pretty sure Stan had mentioned a theoretical suicide once or twice, but never seriously. Kenny was honestly considering it. But then, death was different for Kenny. He could throw himself in front of a moving truck and come back to life not too long after. That didn't mean he should do it, though. Breakups were a part of life, something to be sad about, but not something to kill yourself over.

If this was a breakup, even. He wasn't really sure what state his and Kyle's relationship was in. Although he was pretty sure "go fuck yourself," was about the equivalent of "I'm breaking up with you."

Maybe even, "Don't talk to me again," or "I hate you."

Kenny didn't want Kyle to hate him. That was the last thing he wanted. The thing he most wanted was to go after Kyle, to chase him down and throw his arms around him and make things right, but that wasn't going to happen. Things didn't work that way and Kenny knew it. There had been a period of about three minutes, right after Kyle ran off, that Kenny spent pacing back and forth across his room, practically shaking, trying to decide if he should go after his angry boyfriend or not.

In the end, crawling into bed in a fit of angst had won out against following Kyle. Following him, Kenny was sure, would only lead to a harsher rejection. He'd fucked things up, that much was certain, and Kenny thought it would make perfect sense if Kyle never wanted to look at him again. Winning Kyle back wasn't an option for Kenny, winning at all wasn't an option for Kenny most of the time, so he readily collapsed into the old habit of simply enduring the pain of his own screw up. Putting up with unpleasant things was something Kenny had grown used to.

The fierce desire to fix things was not something Kenny was used to. Even as he pulled the covers over his head and verbally abused himself for expecting anything better than this, Kenny could feel his heart racing, something inside him compelling him to get up, to move, to do something.

But what the hell could he do? Kyle hated him, with good reason, and Kenny had no way to make up for the ways he'd wronged him. All he could offer Kyle was an apology, and he wasn't even very good at those.

But maybe that'd be enough. Maybe. He could hope. Hope? He could pray, more like. With a groan of self-loathing, Kenny pushed off his blankets and forced himself out of bed, into his shoes. He pulled his hood up over his head and set out for Kyle's house, not sure what he was going to do when he got there.

...

What Kenny did when he got to Kyle's house was turn around and go back the way he'd come, so he could go to Stan's place instead.

Kenny had realized that Kyle left his dad's car outside of his house (not a good idea, considering the rough neighborhood, but whatever,) but had assumed that he'd just walked home out of anger. Apparently this was not the case. Upon reaching Kyle's house and knocking on the door, having forced himself to look calm and collected and not at all like a desperate, hysterical ex-boyfriend, Kenny was greeted by Kyle's mom. Looking less friendly than usual, Mrs. Broflovski told Kenny that Kyle had called and informed her that he was going to Stan's house. She also spent a minute or so complaining about how he should have come home for dinner, or at least let her know earlier, but Kenny largely ignored that part of the conversation. He was much too focused on a sensation something akin to the feeling of his stomach dropping down out of his body to splatter on the ground around his feet. Considering that he really had experienced the feel of his own stomach falling out before thanks to a bit of business with some slightly drunk historical reinactors, the flood of hopelessness and dread was strangely familiar.

The fact that Kyle had gone to Stan's instead of going straight home meant that he was more upset that Kenny had thought. For Kyle to physically move himself closer to his best friend in what was apparently his time of need, things had to be really wrong.

Cursing himself silently, Kenny had said goodbye to Kyle's mom as briefly and politely as he could (not politely enough to keep her from hmm-ing and haw-ing in distaste) and rushed off toward Stan's house instead.

...

Stan's mom answered the door with a much friendlier expression than Kyle's mom had, but one that was still wary.

"Hi, Kenny." She paused, watching him, "You know Kyle's here too, right?"

Kenny winced at that. Like she was warning him, he thought. She knew something was up, and she didn't want it all to get worse.

"Yeah, I…I have to talk to him actually. Um. Do you mind if I come in?"

Mrs. Marsh stepped aside, saying, "Of course not, of course not…" She cast a quick glance in his direction before looking to the stairs and calling, "Stanley!"

Kenny held his breath. Fuck, he hadn't even thought of Stan. Kyle was here, so he'd come here. But Stan was in the way. Stan would want to protect Kyle, might try to keep Kenny away, or even- no, Stan wouldn't start a fight. Stan was a pretty peaceful guy, a dirty hippie and all that. But he had a sharp tongue, and Kenny wasn't sure he could stand anyone reminding him of just how awful a person he was right now.

Mrs. Marsh called again, "Stanley?" And after a moment, a door upstairs creaked open, then shut. Stan appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in plaid pajama pants and the shirt he'd worn to school that day, frowning. He looked tired, drawn, and Kenny instantly wanted to apologize for inadvertently sending an angry Kyle his way.

"Oh." Stan said, only walking down a few steps before stopping, his hand on the banister, "Hey Kenny."

Kenny waved up at him, smiling weakly. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mrs. Marsh walking toward the kitchen, probably wanting to get away from what would assuredly be an awkward conversation. Kenny walked up to the foot of the stairs and stopped, hesitant to climb up in case Stan was entertaining thoughts of pushing him.

Thankfully, Stan came down to meet him, stopping one step above the floor, folding his arms as he leaned up against the wall to his left, still frowning. Still blocking the way. Stan was taller than Kenny on any given day, but to have to look up at him a few inches higher than usual was unsettling.

"I…Kyle's here, right?"

Stan tensed at that, but nodded, "Yeah." His tone was clipped, "I don't think he wants to see you though."

Fuck, Kenny thought, tear my heart out and pour some salt in the wound, why don't you? Stan was obviously pissed with him, and that was just complicating things further.

"Look, I don't know what Kyle told you, but we just had this huge misunderstanding, okay?" Kenny tried to keep his voice down, tried to stay calm. He couldn't help being a little annoyed himself, simply because Stan was making things difficult for him. He didn't blame Stan for wanting to protect his friend, but Kenny really wished that he'd just back off for once, "I want to apologize."

Stan rose his eyebrows at that, managing to look incredibly intimidating despite his generally friendly face and prettyboy haircut. Kenny had always thought of Stan as one of those kids in a horror movie, really adorable when they were smiling and innocent, but terrifying as soon as they showed their hidden, evil side. Right now, Stan's righteous anger was making him one of the scariest things Kenny had ever seen. Not quite as scary as his first meeting with Satan, but definitely up there.

"Dude…please." Kenny swallowed nervously, honestly concerned that Stan's pacifistic tendencies might soon take a backseat to his bad mood, then sighed in relief as he dropped his defensive stance.

"You really fucked up, dude."

Kenny bit at his bottom lip, nodding. He wasn't sure how much Kyle had told Stan- probably everything. And he'd probably made it sound so much worse than it was. Or at least, so much worse than Kenny had meant it to be.

"I know, I know," Kenny said quietly, almost frantically, "I gotta fix it."

Stan looked dubious. Fuck, maybe there was no fixing it after all?

"He's seriously pissed, Kenny."

Kenny nodded again, but Stan shook his head, "No, dude- he's worse than pissed off. I mean, you really, really fucked up."

Kenny flinched, curling inward a little as an awful, gnawing guilt settled in his stomach. Oh god, this was going to suck, "Is he, um…is he doing that thing…"

"…where he gets so mad he almost cries?" Stan offered, looking for a moment as though he were restraining himself, "Yeah."

"Fuck." Kenny glanced back toward the door, once again considering the option of playing chicken with a Mack truck.

"Pretty much." Stan sighed. He looked up to his bedroom door, then back at Kenny, appearing to think for a moment before saying, "He's not going to be happy to see you. But if you think you can fix it, go ahead."

Kenny could have kissed him. But he figured that wouldn't do much to smooth things over with Kyle, so instead he just offered a grateful smile. That smile fell as he tried to start up the stairs, only to find Stan blocking his path with one arm.

"If you make him cry, I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Stan spoke softly, seriously, without a trace of anger. Kenny shivered.

"Gotcha." He ducked under Stan's arm and hurried up the stairs, stopping in front of Stan's bedroom door and, for once, knocking lightly. He didn't look back at Stan, sure that if he did, he'd turn to stone, or maybe just die instantly.

...

Kenny leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and listened carefully for a response, but all he could hear was soft music filtering out from underneath Stan's door. He knocked again, a little louder, and after another moment or silence heard a voice.

"Um…who is it?"

Kyle's voice. Kenny's heart jumped in his chest. He wished he could tell the damn thing to stop acting up, to quit making him feel so edgy with its frantic pumping , and to let him relax and think rationally for a minute. But his heart refused to listen, only beating faster, and compelled him to, rather than answer, open the door and peek inside.

Kyle sat on the edge of Stan's bed, one hand poised at his side where he had, seconds ago, been tugging at a loose string in the blanket. His coat and shoes lay on the floor beside him, but his hat was still tugged snuggly over his ears. He stared at Kenny in what seemed disturbingly like fear, then pinned him with a cold glare, his face going pink in anger.

"What the fuck-"

Kenny didn't let him finish. He slipped into the room quickly and shut the door behind him. He leaned heavily against it, half-afraid that Stan was going to come back upstairs and kick his ass. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Kenny said quickly, and put his hands up in mock defense, "I just wanted to uh…" He hung his head a little, the reality of what he was trying to do making him feel sick, "Apologize."

Kyle scoffed and promptly turned away, staring out the window, "Don't bother."

Kenny lowered his head further, and reached up to run a hand through his hair self-consciously. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Coming here to ask for Kyle's forgiveness, as if he deserved it. As if he stood a chance. As if they should actually be together. Who was he trying to kid?

Lifting over his own beaten down self-esteem, Kenny's voice was a near whisper, "Kyle…could you let me explain, at least?"

"Fine!" Kyle snapped, looking back at Kenny, expression suddenly fierce.

Kenny couldn't suppress a grin as he glanced up and caught sight of the look on Kyle's face. He should have known. Even if he had no confidence in himself, he should have expected this much from Kyle. Above his own anger, his own hurt feelings, Kyle would pursue knowledge. He was a know it all little busy body through and through, no matter how much he denied it, and even if he planned on dumping Kenny's sorry ass, he'd want to know exactly what he was dumping him for.

"Okay."

"Just be fucking honest with me, alright?" Kyle continued, looking away from Kenny again as he stood up and began pacing, keeping to just a foot or so of space beside Stan's bed, "Don't give me any of that fake shit you pulled before!"

Kenny jumped slightly at that. Fake? Was he so obviously putting on an act? He'd always thought he made a convincing liar, but apparently Kyle could see right through him. The realization left him a little shaken, but he tried to ignore the feeling.

"Okay, okay," he said, taking a shy step forward, "No…no fake shit. Just the truth." He wouldn't even pull the puppy dog eyes trick, or put a quiver in his voice for dramatic effect. He took a deep breath. Apology. He had to give an apology. He breathed out, slowly, and began,

"I'm…sorry. If I made you feel bad, or pressured, or used, or anything, because I was definitely using you and being a complete dick about it. I'm sorry."

Kenny gave that half a second to sink in. Not quite long enough for Kyle to get up and punch him in the face in case the apology was inadequate, "I'm so, so sorry, because that's not the way you're supposed to treat people you care about, and I care about you a lot." He saw Kyle open his mouth and cut him off, "I love you, Kyle, and I want to be with you, I really do."

Kyle had stopped pacing and was standing with his shoulders slumped. Kenny imagined that he must be experiencing that same awful, heart tugging feeling he'd had corrupting his own insides for the past hour and a half. At least, he hoped that's what he was feeling, and the slight slump of his frame wasn't just due to a particularly heavy dose of hate.

"And if you won't have me, then we can just be friends- please. Just as long as I don't lose you, dude." Kenny swallowed roughly and forced a smile. Okay, being honest was one thing, but letting his emotions get the better of him and putting his entire inner-self on display was not something Kenny wanted to do. Desperate to protect his own feelings, Kenny rushed on, grinning stupidly, "We can start things over. Just think of it like- like I died again." He held one finger up to his head, firing an imaginary gun against his temple, and jerked his head to the side, "Oh my god, I killed myself, I'm a bastard," He snapped his head back up, looking at Kyle pleadingly, "But now I'm a whole new guy, doing this the right way, not fucking things up. Okay?" He let himself relax, shoulders drooping while his pained smile remained, "…okay?"

Kyle stared at him, unsure. He hesitated in opening his mouth, like a cat perched at the edge of a rooftop, usually so smug and sure, but afraid to move forward at the risk of taking an unexpected plunge.

"Let me think." He said finally, and Kenny nodded eagerly in agreement, then took a seat on the edge of Stan's bed. Thinking was good. Thinking at least meant that he had a chance.

But thinking also meant torture. As Kyle paced the room, eyes unfocused, lost in thought, Kenny squirmed. He jumped each time Kyle stopped at Stan's bookshelf and poked distractedly at the knick knacks and CD covers stacked there. He bit his lip each time Kyle seemed to glance his way, considering. He didn't know what to do with himself while Kyle contemplated their fate. He felt like he ought to leave, but he was afraid to go too far from the person he was trying so hard to hold onto. He stayed put on Stan's bed, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"I don't want to stop being friends with you." Kyle said finally, carefully, from across the room.

Kenny jerked his head up, studying Kyle's expression. He still didn't look anywhere near happy, but the blotchy redness had faded from his cheeks, and his words brought hope. Kenny did a little victory dance inside his head. That was a definite step forward, even if it wasn't exactly what he wanted.

"And I do…like you. I really like you." Kyle bit his lower lip in a way that suggested he was holding something back, not giving Kenny the whole story. All victory dance music in his head petered out into a low, uneasy buzz to fill the silence.

"But?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes, making Kenny worry that he'd ruined everything all over again.

"You're a dick. That's all." he said sharply, but he didn't look nearly as angry as before, and that gave Kenny hope.

"You knew I was a dick." Kenny said softly, and smiled as Kyle finally walked back over to the bed and took a seat beside him, not nearly close enough to touch, but close enough to make Kenny feel a little better.

Kyle was tense as he sat down, holding himself tightly upright for a moment before sighing loudly, slouching his shoulders, "Yeah, I did. Doesn't mean you had to be such an asshole, though."

Kenny half-laughed, apparently more interested in twiddling his thumbs than actually looking at Kyle, "I'm a dick and an asshole. I'm a lot of things."

Kyle shot him a nasty look, muttering, "Yeah, you are."

Kenny kept his mouth tightly shut, not wanting to smile or laugh or do anything to suggest that he wasn't taking this seriously. He was more serious about Kyle than he had been about anything. He just couldn't seem to convey that.

A silence stretched between them then, and Kenny was left alone with his thoughts. He frowned, thinking that if Kyle realized how badly he was torturing him by keeping quiet like this, he'd probably feel awful. Which would be somehow satisfying. And yet, thinking like that made him want to punch himself. Guilting Kyle into things was not the way to make this work. He had to keep reminding himself of that.

"You didn't explain, though." Kyle said.

Kenny's heart thudded against his chest, mocking him with each pulse. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum, you're-fucked, you're-fucked, you're-fucked-

"Yeah…I guess I didn't." Kenny said, smiling awkwardly, and took a deep breath and held it. He let it out, eventually, in a sigh, "Um…"

"Why would you do that?" Kyle took over where Kenny trailed off, sounding more hurt than angry for only a moment before his frazzled nerves took over and added an accusatory, furious tone to his voice, "All that…using me! When you didn't even have to. You knew it was wrong, you said so yourself. I mean, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Kenny wouldn't quite meet Kyle's eyes as he answered, "You know what's wrong with me."

The cold, lonely sound to his voice took its toll, softening Kyle's fierce glare until he looked something close to compassionate, "Don't give me that…tell me- explain to me-"

"I just like feeling like somebody cares, alright?" Kenny interrupted, his voice catching a little on the last word, "I didn't mean to fuckin' use you dude, I just- it was nice feeling like you were my best friend, and then my boyfriend. I like having somebody love me even though I'm a total fucktard and can't give what I get." His stance stiffened, shoulders rigid in an attempt to hide his anger and embarrassment. Then, with a sigh, the tension released and Kenny cocked his head to the side, looking tired and drawn, having experienced more shifting emotions in one day than he'd felt in weeks, "I don't want to argue anymore, dude. Just…tell me if I have a chance, okay? Am I getting a second chance?"

Kyle looked at him hard, not glaring as he'd done before, but staring so seriously, so intently that Kenny still wanted to crawl under a rock and hide. He kept up that stare for a moment before sighing and finally, finally smiling, just the tiniest bit.

Kenny didn't smile back, afraid that he'd break whatever spell had just been cast, only swallowed nervously at the feel of his heart racing. God help him, he was going to have a fucking heart attack before this was through.

"You know, I like getting stuff for you." Kyle said, and cocked his head to the side to match Kenny's pose, "And doing stuff for you. I live giving you gifts and taking you out to dinner and shit." He paused thoughtfully, and added, "And even though it is kind of fucked up that you pressured me into sex," Kenny could have writhed in emotional anguish, "I was being kind of a prude." He sighed, and Kenny sighed as well, out of relief, "And now I'm kind of overreacting."

He reached over and took Kenny's face in his hands, pulling his gently closer until he could lean forward and press his lips to Kenny's forehead in a light kiss. He leaned back and released Kenny, smirking, Kenny guessed, at his stricken expression, and said, "I just want us to have a normal relationship."

Kenny nodded eagerly in agreement, "Normal relationship."

"No more fucked up guilt tripping," Kyle added, looking him in the eyes.

"No guilt tripping, got it."

"More honesty." He said, losing his smirk.

"It's the best policy." Kenny agreed.

Kyle smirked again, looking quite pleased. "Sweet. Then your second chance starts now."

Kenny pulled him into a crushing hug, holding on tight enough that his own arms hurt, and knocking Kyle's hat askew in the process. After a bit of shoving and cursing, and eventually some laughter, Kyle hugged him back.

"You're a fucking spazz, dude." Kyle said affectionately, and laughed as Kenny tried, unsuccessfully, to hug him even tighter.

...

..

.

Eric Cartman heaved one breathy, pouty sigh, then another. And another, until Butters came and sat down beside him on the sidewalk to watch Stan, Kyle and Kenny make their way through the school parking lot.

"Somethin' wrong, Eric?" Butters asked, although judging from the sight before them, he could hazard a guess as to what had Eric in such a bad mood. Kyle and Kenny were holding hands, once again giving Eric cause to worry about their possibly gay, possibly freckled future offspring.

Cartman huffed in annoyance, shifting his position so he could rest his chin in one hand, and asked, "Did you know those two fags broke up?"

Butters blinked in surprise because, no, he hadn't known. But since Kyle and Kenny were holding hands now, he hardly thought it mattered.

"Oh. I…I guess they patched things up, huh?" He offered an optimistic little smile, which quickly fell at the sight of the glare he received.

"Butters! Why the hell didn't I know about this?" He demanded, and barely gave Butters the time to shrug before answering himself, "Because those assholes are always trying to keep stuff from me! They never let me in on anything!"

Butters frowned and reached out a hand to pat Eric's shoulder comfortingly, "Aw, I wouldn't take it personal, Eric…"

Cartman fixed him with a deadpan expression, as if to say "Butters you are the dumbest person I've ever met," making Butters pull his hand away and smile in apology. Out loud, Cartman simply sneered, "Like I give a crap what those guys do." He shot another glance in the direction of his sort-of-friends, frowning as Stan gave Kenny a playful push, knocking him into Kyle, who hip-checked him back into Stan. "Fags."

Butters shrugged his shoulders again, since he didn't particularly mind the other boys carrying on like that. He was just glad to see that everyone was happy, and that Kyle and Kenny were obviously not broken up. As much as Cartman's threats of a world of little gay gingers unnerved him, he thought that Kyle and Kenny made an awfully good couple.

"This means I'll never get to try out my plan to break them up!" Cartman complained, "And it was a really fucking good one, too. Stupid, inconsiderate dicks…"

Butters sighed and nodded. This, he could relate to. Whenever he had an evil plan in the works, someone always messed it up or beat him to it. It was just plain frustrating. Adopting Cartman's head-in-hands pose, he murmured, "And that meteor dust didn't even work."

On the other side of the parking lot, Stan called shotgun on the grounds that, should Kenny be allowed to sit in the front with Kyle, someone was going to get arrested for public indecency, and frankly, he didn't want to have any part in that. He took his place as co-pilot while Kyle looked on, laughing, and Kenny slid into the back seat. With a silent exchange of smiles by way of the rear view mirror, everything slipped back into place.

The end! Thanks for all the reviews and thank you to all of those who stuck with this story even though it took me forever and a day to finish it. I sincerely hoped you enjoyed it, and maybe, just maybe, I'll learn my lesson now and stick to one-shots.

Or I'll go work on the other two or three chapter fics I have in the works. Hm.