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I didn't think I'd get through this week  honestly. Between my screwed up sleep schedule, the nicotine cravings I had Wednesday while waiting for my allowance, and being stuck with Kyle for a stupid group project, I thought this week would kill me. But just like every week before this, I miraculously made it to the end.

Shockingly, the group project with Kyle wasn't *that* bad.  By no means was it enjoyable, but I didn't end up breaking his fucking skull with the textbook we had to share, which I'll consider a win. After the talk we had Monday, we both understood it was just best to avoid conversation unless absolutely necessary. It was awkward, but not agonizing. We got it turned in on time, and we are both at peace with what our grade will probably be.

Well, I am at peace. I didn't bother asking him. If he was unhappy with my portion, he is free to fix it alone.

I haven't gotten to see Wendy much since Monday, but we will have plenty of time tonight. That text she got on Monday at the dinner table, the one she flashed at me quickly while my mom had her back turned? It was the invitation to Nicole's 18th birthday. Apparently Tolkien wanted something big for their 3 year anniversary, and since the date falls right around her birthday, he "settled" on a massive party at his place. Pool tables, a DJ; and lots and lots of alcohol. Wendy and other close friends of Nicole got the invite first hand, but they're encouraged to bring anyone and everyone they want : in terms of parties at Tolkien's, bigger is better.

So here I am looking, sitting on her bed and looking her up and down blankly. "Wait I'm confused..." I question, looking stupidly at her sparkly dress and then myself, "am I under dressed, or are you overdressed?" My jeans, and baggy white shirt are definitely not matching the vibe that her she is giving.

"Neither, idiot" she jokes. "You're going to get wasted, I'm going to celebrate one of my best friends becoming an adult. It's different!." Huh. Valid point.

She looks at me funny, as I stare at her, then the 12 dresses she has laid out. Her. The dresses. Her. THE dress.

"I think this one would better with the makeup you have." I say, jumping off the bed, picking up the hanger and holding it against her, with one eye closed. "...yep. this one. The gold is much nicer with the dark lipstick than the purple."

She grabs it slowly from my hand, with some hesitation, before visibly easing up when she looks in the mirror and compares the colors. "Huh..." She utters softly "see, you're such a good gay best friend."

"For the last time-" I hiss "I'd need to be  gay to he a be a gay best friend. And I hope you realize that once I get a girlfriend, I can't be helping you choose outfits." I casually throw out into the open, hoping she would just take my advice without making sassy remarks

"Once you get a girlfriend? That'll be a while." She sneers. I roll my eyes- that bitch! I don't understand why is she acting so snarky today, since when does she push the jokes as far as Cartman? I pause for a second, mouth slightly open, trying to come up with something to match her energy.

"Wendy. I don't think gay best friends typically bang the girl they're friends with like, three times a week." I say, watching her freeze and blush a few shades darker than what she had applied during her makeup routine.

"Shush-" She sputters with her jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed, but breaking into a smile when she sees the small foil hand illuminate in my hand, before I shoved it in my pocket to make room for her hand to be intertwined with mine. "Thank fuck Tolkien has 20 bedrooms"

The walk was nothing interesting, not until we got within about a block of Tolkien's house. The sidewalk was practically vibrating from the music playing hundreds of meters away, and shitty 2008 trucks are lined up down both sides of the block. It looks like everyone person in south park has shown up! It wouldn't be too surprising to me, free liquor is enough to draw any of these alcoholics in like a damn magnet.

We open the door and walk in. Wendy immediately leaves my side to go say hi to Bebe, Red, and Nicole, who are over by the pool table. And I just- stand. At the entrance. I scan the room, seeing who all is here. Kenny is across the room talking with Craig, having already started their drinking with some hard lemonade. Kenny eventually spots me and waves, giving me a genuine smile. I sheepishly smile back. Cartman is with Butters, too busy tormenting him over some stupid ass video game to notice me. And Kyle; was no where to he seen. Thank fuck!

I spend the twenty minutes hanging out with Kenny and Craig, the only 2 other people (besides the goths) who can fuck up a pack of cigarettes without bitching. We sit in the backyard, out of sight from the main patio so Tweek doesn't have an aneurysm, seeing Craig with "death sticks." He doesn't even smoke that much. I smoke more, and Kenny does too, as long as someone is buying him the cigarettes.

After about fifteen, Craig dips, probably to go reassure his boyfriend that he didn't fucking die yet. I swear, I could never deal with anyone that clingy.  Regardless, it gave me some one on one time with Kenny, something I really needed. Kenny is the only person who has stayed truly neutral when it comes to the me/Kyle situation, which I can respect. I mean, Kyle is a total shit head and deserves to have Kenny go off on him, but Kenny is too sweet for that. I'm just glad Kenny wasn't manipulated to leave me in the dust. I mean fuck, we've known each other since we were in diapers. If I lost him too, the only person I would have in my life for 16 years would be Cartman. And honestly, I don't consider that a win. At all. Cartman and I only get along when we rip on Kyle and even then, I can't go full out because he will go running to Kyle and snitch, just to watch the world burn.

The silence is loud. It's super awkward. I don't hate it. But the tension- or maybe just the ashes burning- is making my chest tighten. Regardless, I appreciate his company a lot. Kenny brushes his blonde hair out of his face nervously and shatters the quietness around us.

"So, uh... this party is kinda gay so far, isn't it?" Kenny laughs dryly. I smile and nod, agreeing with him, but letting it trail off awkwardly again. Goddammit! Why can't I hold a conversation with Kenny.

"Yeah... How's Karen doing? Did she enjoy Christmas? I know you worked overtime for those gifts, I bet she loved them" I ask, getting a genuine grin out of Kenny.

"Yeah dude, she loved it! It made all those fucking overtime hours worth it." He goes on a tangent of all the bullshit he dealt with during his 50-hour work weeks, and the shitty people he had to work with as part of it. He skips a beat, and then his smirk grows back once again.

"So, about that group project you had with K-"

"F-Fellas! Come quick! The drinking game is starting!!" Butters cries out into the backyard, racing back through the sliding doors just as fast as he had popped out. Kenny and I exchanged a look of excitement with each other, forgetting what semi-serious conversation we had just begun.

"Fuck yeah!!"

We drop the cigarettes into the grass and rush inside, slowly pushing our way to the front of the crowd around the table. At the head of the table, sitting in a majestic throne-like chair was Nicole, with some sparkle dress that was probably worth more than my life. Token stood to her right, with his hand lovingly on her shoulder. To her left, was Wendy and all the other "girlfriends." They all had a huge smile plastered on their face, which rose my anticipation for the game that was about to come.

To be honest, I don't really know Nicole too well. Besides for when she's around Wendy or Token, I don't run into her. Token's littke birthday toast was boring me, so I naturally look around the room. Kenny, Butters, Cartman, Clyde, Kyle- Kyle?? Goddamnit why does he need to be here? Shouldn't he be crying over the imperfect grade we are about to get on our assignment?

I snap out of mean-mugging him when I hear the crowd cheering, and Craig holding massive bottles that clink as he carries them to the table in front of Nicole.

"Now we have all heard of 21 for 21, right? Turn 21, drink 21 shots in 21 minutes? Well FUCK waiting till your 21st birthday. We are gonna... modify this a bit. 18 for 18. 18th birthday, 18 shots, 18 minutes. BUT- I know that's a pretty heavy task, and Nicole is a lightweight." Token says, getting laughs from everyone and a sarcastic eyeroll from his girlfriend. He continues, "so we have decided that Nicole can choose 1 person to help with the 18 shots. Nicole, who have you chosen?"

She scans the room, then turns back to her girls. They whisper together, and Wendy glances at me, almost winking. Nicole turns back to the main crowd and stands up. "I pick Stan!"

Cue the eruption of cheering from everyone- and I mean EVERYONE. Even Cartman seemed thrilled to watch this go down. I give kyle a smug look, but he looks completely unengaged, the only person who was looking down at his phone. I don't immediately react, but  Kenny pushed me forward, in front of the 18 shots poured out neatly in front of the birthday girl; a mix of vodka shots and Whiskey. I can feel my face turning red, I'm not used to this level of attention.

Clyde, already kind of drunk, holds the timer, and points to everyone else for a countdown.

"3
2
1!"

I double fist the first 2 shots, while Nicole takes it slower, with way more hesitation. I had 5 done before she had 2, but we had about 13 minutes left. I slow my pace on the 6th, feeling the ethanol burn my esophagus as I chug it, closing my eyes to ignore the now uncomfortable sensation.

With about 10 minutes left, I had about 8 done, and she had half of her 5th done. She was gagging, because Ctaig had the brilliant idea to ban chasers for the game. Stupid asshole. Anyhow, I look at her kinda worried, and when looks back at me with dissapointment. "I don't know if I can do more-" She sputters

I look to what felt like a thousand eyes, all staring me down nervously. I look down at the table, 5 more left. 8 plus 5 is... Jesus christ this is gonna suck. But I don't need Cartman calling me a pussy, plus, I think it would majorly piss off Kyle to see everyone so hyped on me. In one swipe, I go back to double fishing the shots. Only the vodka ones were left, which is way worse than vodka in my opinion. Now there's just left... I'm taking it slower, but I have the time. But also, I'm starting to gag at the taste. My throat feels raw, and my hands shake any time I bring them to my mouth. I glance at Butters, who pats my back and tells me it's OK to call it quits if I need. I look at Kyle, who FINALLY is looking up. He has a mix of disgust and shock on his face.

This will really shock him...
3 shots. All done within the next 30 seconds. Everyone is screaming. Wendy is cheering. Kyle's nose twitches. Kenny is clapping. Cartman is laughing at my coughing. The world is mine. This party, Somehow, turned into MY party.

Or maybe thats the alcohol talking.

Once the "bar" opened up for grabs, the spotlight on me died down really fast. I didn't touch anther drink. Everything was spinning really bad, and I couldn't feel my limbs. The world was in slo-mo, and the walls were melting. Thirteen was A LOT. I mean, my tolerance is pretty high, but maybe I pushed it too far this time. Kenny kept checking in on me, pointing out every little thing that seemed wrong with me. I mean, I appreciate it, but cmon dude, you've gotten this drunk before, I don't wanna hear it!

Everything is becoming really blurry. Mt sense of time is warped, forgetting major chunks of what just happened My thoughts are as messy as my depression room. I remember thinking I was seconds away from puking, but the only bathroom on the first floor was locked, with Bebe and Clyde whoring it up.

I get off the couch, telling Kenny I was gonna be right back and make my way to the stairs. I don't remember how I got up, but I did. I stumble into the bathroomqnd throw my hands onto the lid, holding myself up as I gag. My arms feel like spaghetti, and I collapse into a ball on the floor. The ceiling is spinning but there's no fan. I still feel like I'm gonna spend the next year puking. I'm gonna stay right here. It's all Fading.

.

And then. My eyes open. I'm laying on a mattress, and the sun is barely peaking though the curtains, only slightly over the mountains. I feel like I'm sinking, my body too heavy to move, my limbs stiff. With all my concentration, I finally am able to sit up, just a little bit. This headache is splitting. I turn to my left, and I see Wendy is curled up on the bed, clinging to my arm. The alarm clock on the side table reads 7am

I definitely don't remember the last 7 hours. I don't remember falling asleep. I don't remember getting to the bedroom. I don't remember leaving the bathroom, or if I ever threw up. I've never blacked out like this.

I let my head fall back onto the pillow. 'Wendy.' I whisper. She doesn't respond. 'Wendy," I repeat louder, this time pushing at her arm.

"Hm," She sleepily grumbles, not opening her eyes.

"Do you know what happened after I left to go to the bathroom? I mean, how did I end up here." I question her quietly, trying not to startle her too much.

"Kyle," she mumbled, practically incoherently. "I'm tired Stan, let me sleep more..." her voice trails off and she curls up against my jacket more.

I blink, trying to process the jumble of words slipping from her mouth"Wendy, what? Kyle what?" I say louder. But it's useless, she already managed to fall back asleep. God fucking dammit.

Great. My ex girlfriend mumbling "Kyle" sleepily after asking her what happened last night can only mean 2 things: either they fucked, or Kyle and I actually interacted yesterday.

Honestly, I can't tell which option is more nauseating.

"What happened last night?" I mutter, pushing the base of my skull with my palm

"Depends what do you remember?" Kyle asks in a monotone voice, eyes glued to the TV.

I responded by raising my eyebrow, thrown off by what he said. "depends? What do you mean it 'depends' on what i remember? It either happened or it didn't dude.

My legs are shaky, my knees feel like they are about to cave in. I throw myself lifelessly onto the couch, as far away from Kyle as possible. Everything is spinning. Is it possible to have a hangover while still drunk?

"Well, I mean, where on the story do I need to fill in the blanks?" Kyle shrugs. "I'm pretty sure you remember the dozen shots you hammered during the games, but how far after that do you remember?"

I think for a second. Honestly, I can't think right now. I'm hearing words, but im not really processing them. It's not black and white either, my memory isn't just cut clean with a knife. It started strong, then has some holes, then is barely hanging on, and then it's gone. Kyle wouldn't get that though, so I just tell him "the last thing I remember is leaning over the toilet feeling ready to vomit."

Kyle nods, adjusting the TV volume lower. "Well, not much really. I went into the bathroom around 2, and you were like, kinds conscious. I asked if you were okay, you said yes, and then I told you to get out so I could pee."

"Huh" I mumble.

"Yeah" he says, flat.

Between us, there was only silence for what felt like an eternity, but was realistically only five minutes. The TV stayed on low, and thank god for that, my slamming headache was worse than the cold chills I had. I didn't realize that I had stopped watching TV to unconsciously rubbing my temple until I heard the shake of pills and something move towards me from the corner of my eye.

I look up to my left, and see Kyle's hand extended in my direction.

"...it's advil" he once again says flatly, followed by a swig of his beer

I take it cautiously. Not because I'm worried of him, but because I'm worried that if I move too fast, I'll puke all over the both of us. After sipping the water, I mumble a quick thanks.

Another gap in conversation. Another eternity of silence. My head hurts too much to let my mind race, which sucks because endless thoughts are the best distraction from a migraine.

Without warning, Kyle clears his throat and gets up, taking the blanket from around his shoulder and draping it over me in one swift move.

"I uh, gotta get going. Ike has wrestling practice at 8. Hope you feel better I guess, please make it home safe" Kyle explains, before shuffling out the door.

Again I nod, but only because I hope it will make him shut up faster. I can hear the words he's saying, but I cannot glue them into a string of sentences that I can process. For all I know, he was speaking to me in Latin. It's all such a blur.

.

I don't remember much after the door closed. I don't know if I blacked out again, or fell asleep. Or both. And this time, I don't have Kyle to tell me what happened. At least he was useful for something while he was here. And honestly; a small, small, very small .part of me wishes he was still on the couch next to me, ready to fill me in when my memory failed me yet again.

(((Well, that's the end of this chapter. You like where it's going? Some fluff! I have the next 3 chapters roadmapped, so I'm thrilled -LM)))