Did Satan forget to pay the heating bill? Because hell has officially frozen over!

Kyle texted me.

Kyle. Texted. Me.

Before I could see what he said, my overwhelming curiosity turned into overwhelming anxiety. I haven't seen his name in my notifications in over a year! A wave of nausea hit me, and honestly, I didn't know if I even wanted to read it. I could just delete the message and continue living my life as if nothing happened, but that would leave the stress lingering. He's probably so pissed at me right now; I had the audacity to ask him what happened at the party after being an asshole to him in class all week! My fingers didn't comply with my mind, trembling above the phone screen. Eventually, I managed to click the message

"Hey Stan, did you get home safe?" -Kyle

The anxiety was wearing down now that I knew he wasn't ripping me a new one for being an idiot on Friday, but my heart rate was increasing tenfold. Why do I even care that he sent me this, it's the bare minimum. I hate him! I hate that I'm smiling over a seven-word text from him. I reread it probably a thousand times before I thought of a reply, I wanted to analyze every character. The punctuation, actually saying my name, all conveyed genuine concern. I hope to God it isn't pity.

The more I thought about it, the more I appreciated it. I mean, maybe it isn't the bare minimum. For fuck sake, no one bothered to ask me if I got home fine, besides Wendy of course. After what felt like days, but was probably only 15 minutes, I sent a response

"Yeah, thx :) You doing alright?" -Stan

I didn't wanna make it seem like I cared too much, but also, I didn't wanna further my image of an asshole. I'm terrified I'm gonna fuck this up one way or another, I don't know why I even care.

While that was the major out-of-character thing that happened in the week following the party, there were a lot of smaller things of note too. Like the blanket Kyle tossed around my shoulders when he was leaving the party- I didn't even process it until I woke up from my second knock-out. I assumed he had just taken it from Tolkien's couch or guest bedroom and was too lazy to fold it, but when I asked Tolkien where to put it, he shrugged and said it didn't belong to him, and that someone else must have forgotten it.

I didn't know how to bring this up with Kyle, because as far as I remember, he deliberately threw it over me. There's no way he "forgot" it. The entire thing is wildly confusing. For now, I just gave it a quick wash and folded it on the edge of my bed. I can give it back when he asks for it, which is gonna be an awkward conversation.

But then there's things that involve Kyle, without him actually BEING involved. Ever since the party, I've been having dreams at night, where things are back to normal. There's no explanation or "make up," it's just him hanging out with Kenny and me at lunch. Or even just Kyle and I talking about school together walking home. I never realize that it isn't real until I wake up, that our friendship is still a thing of the past. It leaves a weird feeling. I don't miss him, so there's no reason it should be stinging as much as it does. And I-

"-Stan?"

Shit. I must have zoned out again

"Huh? Oh sorry Kenny, what was that?" I say, pretending like I'm not still in an entirely different world right now.

"I asked what you got on number 13. For the Calc assignment we are supposed to be working on?" He says condescendingly, knowing damn well I haven't touched the calculator in at least the last fifteen minutes.

"Right uh... I'm still working through that" I mumble, trying to find the pencil that somehow must have left my grasp during my trance.

"Stan," Kenny deadpans, "there is no #13. It's an assignment with 10 questions. Like every week. What's up dude, you aren't being yourself. At all."

I shrug. I guess I know what's bothering me, but I don't think it's actually bothering me as much as he's making it seem. He makes it seem like I switched personalities overnight! I've just been zoning out more than normal, but it's not like I am highly attentive in general.

"Did your dad do some more fucked up shit?" He asks hesitantly, knowing Randy is a very sore subject. I give a genuine shrug this time.

"Hah, I don't know what that asshole is up to. He probably DID do some fucked up shit. But it doesn't involve me this time. At all." I chuckle lightly. Kenny knows me so well to have that as his first guess! I guess having his own personal experience with a deadbeat dad really helped us connect over the past few years, especially after the divorce was finalized.

He looks at me, giving a serious expression. "...does it have anything to do with Kyle, then?"

"What?" I sputter, almost defensively

"C'mon dude. You haven't bitched about him in a week! I know it's building up, this is a new record," he laughs and leans into my ear and hisses, "spillll!"

"Jesus Christ Kenny, 'spill?' You've been hanging out with Butters too much." I raise an eyebrow, totally thrown off by his unusual language. He chuckles, getting a kick out of the reaction.

Kenny neatly folds up his unfinished assignment and throws it into his bag with no care in the world and kicks the bag aside, as if he was trying to intimidate me. "This isn't about me and Butters, this is about you and Kyle. Now, let's focus on the actual problems. What. Did Kyle. Do?"

"Dude, nothing. Stop pushing for a problem that doesn't exist" I say, shoving him away. He wasn't convinced, just amused. "Also I'm not dropping the whole Butters dialect bullshit, because that's really suspicious dude."

"Oh, you wanna lecture ME about suspicious?" Kenny retorts. "You normally tell when something is up, and now you're being all whiny and wannabe-mysterious." Kenny pauses, and gasps, his lips melting into a smirk. "Oh my god, did one of the feral vamp kids roofie you at the party? Symptoms include bitchiness, and being a massive dou-"

"Stop." I roll my eyes. "Nothing. Happened. And especially nothing with Kyle. I got really, really, drunk at the party, he kicked my ass out of the bathroom after I passed out, and told me awkwardly the next morning before leaving 5 minutes later to get Ike from hockey or some other damn school thing. Cool? Cool. Now stop bothering me." I 'forgot' to mention the blanket, but I wouldn't really call that LYING. I mean, I still have plausible doubt. For all I know, Kyle was too buzzed to remember that was his blanket and truly did accidentally leave it. It probably meant nothing, and therefore, isn't worth "spilling" to Kenny, or whatever the fuck he said.

Kenny looked at me confused, eyebrows narrowing and head tilted. "Dude that's not what happened."

"What do you mean?" I spat back. I'm partially convinced Kenny is just doing this to see if I'll add more to the story, but he seems genuinely confused at my 2nd hand recollection of the night.

"Dude, are you playing dumb right now? Or do you actually think that's the only thing that happened last week?" Kenny asks, eyes widening.

My stomach drops a little, now realizing that there's probably a lot more information that I have no clue about."Uhm... yeah?"

"Duuuude..." Kenny mumbles. "Okay, well you weren't wrong with the first part of the story. You WERE on the bathroom floor, and Kyle tried to get you to take your nap somewhere else and politely told you to fuck off."

I roll my eyes. "Well yeah, I vaguely remember blacking out while trying to puke." I try to mention to Kenny that Kyle was a total asshole for not just leaving me alone and finding one of the 17 other bathrooms in Tolkien's mansion, but before I could propose that argument, Kenny continues his elaboration.

"Well, you couldn't necessarily fuck off. Because you were stumbling like a deer shot in the ankles," Kenny says matter-of-factly.

Oh my god. This is embarrassing. Kenny hasn't even broken into a grin yet, so I'm assuming this is nothing compared to what he's telling me later in this story. I feel my stomach continue to drop, into a pit of nothingness.

"So Kyle kinda like, picks you up. And throws your arm over his shoulder. And takes you to one of the guest bedrooms." Kenny says, slowing down to properly recollect and retell the story

I blink, my mind as blank now as it was that night. I don't know how to react. I'm too confused to even think about how to react. "Well uh... that's nice. If that's all th-"

"No no, that's not all," Kenny rushes to break my sentence.

Oh no.

"So like, Kyle drops you onto the bed and tries to awkwardly shuffle out of the room. But you said, "please, don't leave me." Kyle was all annoyed, but for some reason, he stayed with you? He actually made sure you had the blanket and kept sipping water." Kenny tapers off.

"...and then?" I ask slowly, pretty sure I don't even wanna know.

"...you just kinda, started crying. Not hysterical sobbing, but sniffle-crying. We don't know why you were so upset, you were incoherent and half passed out. Kyle just stayed with you until you fell asleep, and then told Wendy where to find you." Kenny finishes, shrugging.

Mortified doesn't properly capture the expression I have. Based on my face, you could guess that I witnessed Satan come back to earth again. I'm speechless. I don't know what to say to Kenny, or what to even tell myself

"Who told you that watered-down version anyhow?" Kenny asks, seemingly proud that he knew the full story before I did.

I mutter Kyle's name, still trying to recover from the embarrassment. I cannot believe I cried, and I don't even remember it. I never cry! "What the fuck, Stan?" is all I can repeat to myself mentally.

Kenny made an awkward grimace. "Oh... well, Kyle told me this version. Huh, that's weird," he tries to recover nonchalantly. It was too late for that; my confusion was turning to anger within seconds.

"Oh cool, so Kyle has established himself once again as a liar, and a two-faced bitch. Cool. What else is new?" I sarcastically remark.

"Stan I-"

"-Yknow, that fucker can't keep his mouth shut. If he told you about my little drunken sissy moment, who else has he told?" I'm too heated to hear anyone out. I ramble on, "to hell with that, I bet he just made that all up to make me look bad. What a-"

"STAN," Kenny shouts.

"What," I reply flatly, annoyed that he cut me off in the middle of my tangent.

Kenny, by some miracle, was instantly able to return to his calm demeanor as soon as he had my attention in his grasp. "You're overthinking this way too much. Kyle definitely didn't tell anyone else, I could barely pry it out of him. He tells me just about everything, the same way YOU tell me everything. I'm just the go-to friend for that." He says with some level of accomplishment. We sit in awkward silence as he checks his phone for about half a minute, and then he continues his reassurance. "I don't think Kyle would make that up. I mean, he didn't seem smug about it at all. He seemed defeated if anything. I don't know if he felt bad for you, or if he felt like a total wuss for being soft enough to spend an hour comforting someone he is supposed to hate," he snorts.

While it answered the initial questions, it brought on a wave of new ones. Wendy told me to ask Kyle what happened, so how much does SHE know? If she knows, how did she find out, from Kyle or Kenny? I start thinking allowed, asking the question of why Kyle didn't just tell me what happened in the first place.

"Well, I can't answer that one for you, but you can just ask him yourself in about five minutes." Kenny sarcastically says. He catches my confused stare and grins. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, Kyle and I are going to Denver to get midnight milkshakes. You're coming with."

"What??" I screech, looking out the window to see if the sun had even set yet; it had, about 2 hours ago. I mist have lost track with my pondering. "Dude! you didn't think to ASK me? What if I had plans early tomorrow morning???" Questioning him, I slam the curtains shut, as if hiding the moonlight can hide the fact that it was almost quarter past eleven.

"Dude," Kenny deadpans, "when do you EVER have anything going on, on a Saturdat morning, besides a hangover?"

Touché

Before I could get another word out, I hear honking, and I don't need to look out the window to know who it is; I do so anyhow. Kenny doesn't let me sit wide eyed at the windowsill, instead dragging me down the stairs straight out the front door.

"Kyle didn't argue me coming??" I push Kenny for answers.

"No, he did" Kenny sneers. "He begged me to not invite you. But I'm charming. And got him to stop whining"

Great. At least me and Kyle are in agreement on one thing. "Kenny please, if he doesn't want me coming, maybe I shouldn't piss him off furthe-"

"When have you ever cared about possing him off? Besides, I didn't argue with him for nothing. It'll be fun! Plus, didn't you wanna ask your little question? Man the fuck up." Kenny says, quieter and quieter as he approaches the car, opening the backdoor for me and the front door for himself!

"Hey Ken!" Kyle says enthusiastically. Hesistantly looking at me, he plasters a fake smile and says "hi Stan." I weakly smile and exchange hellos, trying to be polite. I sit down, feeling my knees get weak. I pop in my airpods, casting out the noise of the dialogue in the front seat, allowing the questions in my head to take over, screaming at me.

Why Kyle didn't just tell me what happened in the first place? What was the motive? Who benefits from it?

Time flies, even when you're not having fun; and thank god for that, if I had to feel every minute of that 45 minute drive, I'd have thrown myself out of the moving car. We pull up to some local shake shack in Denver, apparently it's one of the better ones that are open 24/7. I reluctantly step out, hands shoved into my pockets. Kenny and Kyle lead the way, letting me simply follow along like a damn dog. Out of courtesy, I take my earphones out.

Kenny and Kyle place their order, and so do I. There was silence. Kenny stares me down, refusing to break eye contact. "I need to use the restroom, I'll be right back"

Bullshit. He just wanted to leave me alone to see if it would force me and Kyle to talk. Even after thinking for hours how to ask Kyle all the questions I had, I found my mouth unable to vocalize a single syllable. More silence. Kyle breaks it, just casually looking around the restaurant in every direction except mine, asking, "how are you?"

"Why didn't you just tell me what happened in the first place." I say, sounding more like a statement than a question. Shock takes over. I didn't even have to think about it, it just happened

Kyle finally gets the nerves to look at me. "Wha?"

I swallow, breathing starting to get shaky. I didn't think this through, having to explain the context. "K-Kenny told me. About what happened at the party. About how I guess I kinda, yeah. Why did you, well, yknow, help me? And why didn't you tell me when I asked what happened?" I ask. I sound like a fucking idiot, stuttering

Kyle sighs, putting away his phone, actually looking me in the eyes. His eyes are filled with the slighted bit of sorrow, that only a former super best friend would notice"Look, Stan, I promise it wasn't anything personal. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to be embarassed or anything. So what, big deal, you cried a little, got slightly clingy, stumbled around. It happens. You were really, really drunk. I know you didn't mean anything by it. Kenny is the only one who knows, I didn't tell Wendy or anyone else. As far as Wendy knows, all I did was pick you up from the floor and help you find a spare room."

"But that doesn't answer-"

"-As for the other half of your question," Kyle says calmly but sternly, shutting me up quickly, "As much as you hate me, and as much as you are probably pissed off at me for stepping in, I just could not see you like that. Despite everything, you were, at one point, my absolute best friend in the world. And even if it isn't like that anymore, and even if it will never be like that again, I don't wanna see you in tears."

I stand there dumbfounded. My eyes well up, but my blinking flushes it away.

Kyle glances at the floor, and back at me."Oh and Stan? One last thing... I'm sorry for the way things ended. And even if you hate me, I don't hate you. I don't regret being your best friend, and I hope you're doing okay again."

.

Something about hearing those sentences those string of words, twisted my stomach into a knot.

I thought I hated him. But really, I think I just hated how it ended. And I've just been forcing myself to hate him so that losing him wouldn't hurt as much and I wouldn't have to regret it for the rest of my life.

It's not working. I regret a lot right now.

****A/N**** there we go! Chapter 5 done, and somewhat of a reunion? Some angst, but some closure? I hope you're liking the Stan/Kyle complexity, because this chapter was only the beginning. Remember to comment ur thoughts on the chapter.