///A/N/// Chapter 6 already? I'm so excited, I hope you are too! Remember to leave comments!///

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Needless to say, the rest of that night was fucking awkward. Neither Kyle nor I could hold eye contact, and silence kept filling the booth we were seated at. Kenny eventually came back, perplexed by this: he was either expecting a Disney reunion, or milkshakes being thrown at each other in a death battle. He didn't expect this weird in-between.

I didn't know how to mentally prepare for this, or that it was something I even needed to prepare for. I walked into the situation thinking I was going to confront Kyle for being a liar, and that there was no other way this conversation could go. Once again, I was dead wrong. Kyle seemed so... Genuine. Seeing that from him left me shocked, but the deepest part of me wasn't surprised at all. It's the Kyle I couldn't be separated from in grade school; the Kyle that was my super best friend.

God, look at my rambling. "Kyle, Kyle, Kyle." Apparently, hearing that he doesn't hate me, and he doesn't regret our friendship, wasn't closure.

And y'know what? I don't even think I'm seeking closure. Closure represents a door closing and walking away. I'm not ready to do that. I'm on the doorstep, filled with guilt and regret, ready to beg for forgiveness.

Well, metaphorically, at least.

In reality, I'm too busy reliving every word from that midnight snack run from about two weeks ago to respond to any of the messages from Kenny and Wendy.

"And even if you hate me, I don't hate you."

I thought I hated him, I really did, until that talk. It was easier to hate him when I thought it was mutual. But knowing he doesn't despise me lets the remorse into me. Ever since he said it, I can't help but remember everything I did to contribute to the collapse of our friendship. Kyle treated me like shit towards the end, sure, but I did a thousand things that prompted it.

"And I hope you're doing okay again."

I'm not okay, for a reason that is unknown to Kyle and until recently, me as well. It was known to everyone, especially Kyle, that my dad's obsession with the damn farm and my parents' divorce hit me hard. I entered a self-destructive streak that nearly made me the man I hate most; Randy. I'm over it now. My mom is better, I'm better, even Shelley is better, and that should have been the end of why I WASN'T okay. However, it wasn't until that damn talk with Kyle that I realized I wasn't okay because of something else. Something I didn't even know I cared about anymore. I'm not okay because the thing that made me okay still isn't here. Kyle.

"Fuck my life," I mutter, slamming my hand on the bedside table to grab the lighter. I toss the sheets up and fling myself off the mattress, instantly towards the window. Carefully, quietly, I open it, and climb onto the roof, popping a camel cigarette in my mouth and setting the tip ablaze. I let the nicotine warm my lungs without giving a second thought to the world beyond the roof.

Until I heard the damn faded ringtone of my cell phone.

Taking a second to audibly trace where the hell the sound is coming from, I realize it's still sitting on the bed. I go cross-eyed, trying to see how much of my cigarette is left: Almost the entire thing. Leaving it in my mouth still fully lit, I head back to the window and climb in just as silently as I had left. "This better be fucking important," I mumbled.

I repeat that on the phone, "This better be fucking important." Knowing that Kenny is on the other end of the line leads me to believe that this conversation won't live up to that standard, however.

"Oh, it's not," Kenny said casually with no remorse.

I called it. Knew it.

"But you better have something fucking important going on to excuse you ignoring everyone," Kenny says, mockingly in response to the way I started the phone call. "Dude, you've been giving me the drying responses, ignoring Wendy outright, and avoiding the entire group at lunch. What has gotten into you? You haven't been the same since we went to Denver, and neither you nor Kyle will tell me what's going on." He rants.

"Oh, well Kyle didn't have a problem telling you anything last time, how about you press HIM harder for answers, not me," I throw out sarcastically. I'm not mad at Kyle for doing that, but if deflecting is gonna get Kenny off my ass, I'm going to do it without a second thought. "Plus, I told you I didn't wanna go. You made me go. This is YOUR fault."

The static from Kenny's cheap cell phone rings through my ear as he remains silent.

"Dude stop being a fucking bitch." He groans, immediately dropping the attitude to cordially invite me to Craig's house. Initially, I declined, and Kenny whined that without me, he's stuck in between Kyle and Cartman's fighting with no distraction. Hearing Kyle was there only made me double down on my decision, flashing back on how my LAST interaction with Kyle was; awkward.

I suddenly (and unsurprisingly) changed my mind when Kenny clarified that alcohol, not a milkshake, was involved this time.

I walk over to Craig's house instead of driving because I wanted time to catch up on my notifications, knowing full well I wasn't going to reply to any of them. I had about three or four texts from Wendy, none of them directly asking me what was wrong, but simply telling me that she was there to talk If I needed her. I had more messages waiting from Kenny, ranging from about a week and a half ago, all the way up until about 10 minutes ago. The oldest text was asking me if I knew anything about Kyle being awfully quiet after the trip, and the newest text was from 10 minutes ago, begging me to come over to the hangout. 

I listen to the snow crunch under my shoes, a noise that eased me as I got closer to Craig's house. I kept contemplating if I wanted to bail and simply follow the footsteps I imprinted onto the sidewalk over the last five minutes. Abruptly, the soothing sound stopped as I stepped onto a shoveled driveway, causing me to look up and realize that turning around was no longer an option: I was here. 

The bickering from the 2nd floor could be heard from outside, although I couldn't make out what bullshit Cartman was spewing. I approach the doorstep raising my fist, but stop myself from knocking. Instead, I grab my cell phone and pull up my messages with Kenny to let him know I was there. I had planned that if he didn't respond within five minutes, I would leave and shift the blame onto him; but before I could even tuck the cell phone back into my pocket, I got a reply telling me to come in.

Past the doors, I could hear the bickering more clearly. As I crept up the stairs, I heard Cartman yell, "for the last time Kahl, you CAN'T be the banker, you're Jewish. You'll just take the money when we aren't looking." I assume they're setting up to play Monopoly.

"Don't belittle my people fatass!" Kyle shrieks in response. By this point, I'm practically at the top of the stairs and can see the entire set-up. Craig, Clyde, Jimmy and Kenny are playing some RPG game, getting high off the same blunt, while Kyle, Cartman, and Tweek are trying to establish the start of their board game, beer cans resting on the board.

"Cartman stop being a fucking dickwad, you're just pissed because no one trusts you to count out 1500$ accurately," I chime in, mildly startling all three of them, their necks snapping my direction. Kyle and Tweek almost looks relieved to see me, while Cartman's anger is just fueled.

"Oh I'm sorry, you're on HIS side?" Cartman screams. "Aren't you supposed to be against each other? I swear to god if this some enemies-to-lovers bullshit-," promptly being interrupted by the stacks of monopoly money, along with the beers, flying off the board and hitting the wall.

"I can't take this arguing anymore!!!" Tweek hyperventilate. "Shut the fuck up or get out of our house!" The three of us go wide eyed, while the boys on the couch just glance at us. Once tweek realizes we are staring at the wall behind him rather than him, he turns around and sees the beer dripping down the wall, puddling onto the floor. "Oh my God, what have I done?"

Craig hastily walks over to the scene of the crime, and puts his arm around Tweek, assuming him calmly, "Tweek honey its okay, just go get the towels from the washer and a wet washcloth, it'll be an easy fix." He gives a convincing reassuring smile before watching his boyfriend descend down the stairs. As soon as Tweek was out of sight, Craig turns back to us with a stoic face. "But he was right- Shut the fuck up or get out of our house," he casually reiterates. 

"Pfft, what an asshole," Cartman scoffs before walking off to get a replacement for his drink. In the meantime, Kyle is left alone to pick up the scattered pieces. I hesitate for a moment, but I awkwardly join him. He doesn't say anything about it, probably because he knows I wouldn't want him to make a big deal about it, but he does give me a small smile.

After five minutes, we find the top hat piece which had escaped underneath the door, and we are able to slap the lid back onto the box. Despite protests from Cartman that we should reset the board and try again, we all decided that we weren't going to go through that hassle again. The four of us that were previously not on the couch find ourselves there quickly, watching the TV as we decide how to make this night less lame.

Everyone else settled on watching a Terrence and Philip compilation, since by now, we were either mildly high or slightly tipsy. The show had been cancelled for about eight years now, and none of us had seen an episode in at least five years. Kenny and the other guys who were playing the PS5 were on board to hand over the TV for this noble cause, and after a quick youtube search, they found the comedy gold they were looking for. Although I didn't argue against it, I was dreading it. Terrence and Phillip used to be OUR show. Kyle and I used to race home from elementary school weekly just to make sure we caught the new episode in time. We never watched a new episode alone. Fuck, we got the nation into a war over the show, and fought side by side against our parents. 

The show brings back amazing memories, but I don't want to think about it. Its just that; a memory. I'll never have it back.

I had already had 4 drinks. But 4 turned to 5, 5 turned to 6, and 6 turned to 10. I kept the tabs from each can so I wouldn't lose count, tucking them neatly into my jacket pocket. I wanted to avoid getting blackout drunk at all costs, especially while I was with Kyle. I got sick to my stomach at the idea of a repeat from Nicole's Party; the crying, the clinging, the clumsiness. I wouldn't allow Kyle to be my hero again. It would be nothing short of humiliating for me.

I didn't pay much attention to the show until I was on my 10th drink. by this point, my heart beat slowed to a normal pace and I was able to watch the show without flashbacks to my friendship with Kyle. Nine drinks also made the show, like, REALLY funny. Everyone else was just letting out little chuckes occasionally, while I was unable to catch my breath because I was cackling so hard at the jokes. I got occasional stares, but decided that if Cartman hasn't complained yet, it could have been that bad, right?

Wrong.

I grab for the eleventh can, when I feel a palm placed above mine. I look up and see Kyle, eyebrows raised and eyes focused in on mine. I totally forgot about the beer in this moment, I was a deer in the headlights. I tried to read his facial expression, but his face was blurry and moving in slow motion.  "Stan, are you sure grabbing another one is a good idea?" he asks me, worried.

"Don't tell me what to do" I tell him, fumbling with the tab on the can. He looks perplexed, and leans in a little closer.

"Dude, you're drunk. That was super slurred and really loud. Everyone is staring at us." Kyle whispers. What a liar! I'm the one saying it, so I think I would know if its slurred or not! I take personal offense to this and out of spite, get the tab off the can, although it took all my concentration. 

Another few minutes of the compilation continues, with another few minutes of finding this way funnier than I found it as a child. Kyle is bouncing his leg and keeps glancing my direction. I want to be annoyed that he doesn't trust me about my personal choices, but I blow it off. This show is too damn funny to worry about his stupid opinion right now! I laugh while taking a sip and I choke on my drink. The coughing starts off mild, but builds to gagging, and I push myself off the couch and stumble to the bathroom and vomit halfway digestedcrackers and beer.

Hey, I'm doing better than last time, at least I'm remembering the puking part!

Theres a fiery sensation in my throat and the taste like death, but besides that, I feel fine. The euphoric sensation from the alcohol only is continuing to grow. I wash my hands and trip out the bathroom door, right into Kyle.

"DUDE why did you follow me to the bathroom that's kinda gay," I sputter as Kyle grabs my forearm and slowly leads me down the stairs.

"Stan, you are drunk. You should probably go home." Kyle says firmly, as if it was more of a demand than a suggestion. "Craig is gonna be really pissed off if you puke on his floor, and he's not gonna help you clean anything like he helped Tweek with the beer on the wall. Also there's only 2 bathrooms in his house, so you cant sleep on the bathroom floor like at Tolkien's house."

I blink, lacking any reaction to what he just said. "Are you kicking me out? Seriously dude that's not cool."

Kyle sighs and puts a hand on my shoulder. "No, I'm not. I just wanna make sure you understand whats going on right now. I'm worried that you're gonna wake up tomorrow morning and things are going to turn out not-so-great between you and the other guys. I know we aren't on best terms, but I don't want to just let that happen. Did you drive here? I can drive you ba-"

"Nahhh, I walked here. I guess I get what you're saying. I'm gonna go to Wendy's sleep this off before going home. Mom would killllll meeeee if i came home like this," I finish the sentence dramatically hoping to reduce the seriousness of the conversation. Kyle still looks overwhelmed, but slightly more eased than previously. I'm watching his eyes closely, trying to determine if I should hug him, but i determine that its the drunk side of me talking, and that there's no way in hell sober me would ever think its a good idea. I head to the door before hearing an echo from across the room.

"Please text me when you get there," Kyle says. I nod and smile weakly before stepping onto the front porch, almost immediately slipping.

My inner dialogue is going insane. My heart palpitations are going equally insane. I would think its the nerves from throwing up, but it didn't hit me until after the conversation with Kyle.

I'm promising myself that I'll do anything to fix that friendship. As much as I love Wendy, there's just something about Kyle that I miss. Plus, its not like I need to choose between them, I can easily have 2 best friends! Kyle just knows me so well, and he reads like a book. I can tell by just by his eyes what he's thinking. Plus, his smile is so warm and welcoming. I miss him. My eyes begin to well as the emotions hit me, though they're not necessarily bad ones. They're just strong. Even after losing him as my super best friend, I'm still lucky enough to have a connection with him. I'll take that over nothing. I definitely don't hate him

I forgot to text Wendy that I was coming over, but her car sat nicely in the driveway. I had high hopes I wouldn't be left stranded outside, or worse, that I'd have to face my mother like this. I knock on the door, and hear no movements. After another I knock harder, throwing my fists against the door as hard as possible. I stare at the ground, thinking about how soft the snow looks. Its reminds me of a soft blanket, which I'd die for right now. Exhaustion has me in a chokehold. My trance about the snow is cut short when  I hear the doorknob wiggle on the other end

Just as quickly as the door swings open, I stumble in. Wendy looks me up and down, eyes wide, frozen. "Stan, what the fuck? You just went completely AWOL on everyone, what's happening? Are you good?"

I drag the sleeve of my hoodie on my face under my nose, pushing back the snot that had built up from forcing my tears to stay away. I wasn't going to stop that now, though. The last thing I'd want is for my closest friend, the girl who knows me the most, to think I'm a wuss.

"Is your mom home?" I ask, peering around the corner for any signs of Mrs. Testaburger.

She hesitantly watches me heading towards the stairs, not immediately following along. "No, she's not, but I don't think it's a good idea for us to have sex right now, you're dru-"

"I didn't come over for that." I blurt out. "I know we have that whole friends-with-benefits arrangement, but I need a friend more than I need benefits right now. And you're my best friend."

She visibly eases up, and slowly follows me up the stairs, staying behind me, presumably to make sure I don't just tumble down.

I drop back onto the bed, in what feels like a slow, relaxing fall. Despite being painfully drunk, I succeeded in not blacking out. I know exactly where I am, what's going on, and how I feel. Normally the alcohol is poison, but this time, the countless beers are medicine; providing me liquid courage. Everything is fuzzy, including the nagging voice that makes me overthink every word and action.

Wendy sits on the foot of her bed, and I can tell from my peripheral vision that she is watching me stare at the ceiling.

"Did I ever tell you how I realized I wasn't straight?" I say, words spilling off my tongue without even realizing what I'm saying.

"No, you haven't Stan," Wendy says calmly. "You never bring the topic up."

"I realized when Kyle and I practiced kissing," I blurt.

"What?" Wendy says, all the calm in her voice replaced by disbelief.

"Yeah, it was 8th grade," I tell her carelessly. I hadn't planned on telling her any of this, not for a while at least. But it just kind of happened. I didn't about what was coming out of my mouth, I just let the recollection slip off of my tongue.

"I had just found out I was gonna be going on a date with you, I was ecstatic. I had kissed you before, but nothing past a peck on the lips. I kept telling Kyle how worried I was about fucking it up, and he jokingly suggested that he could help me practice. We both were laughing about how wasn't gay if it was just 'practice.' And so we ended up kissing. It wasn't romantic at all, we kept pulling away making stupid remarks and giggling about how funny this situation was."

"...What," Wendy says flatly, this time, less shocked and more skeptical.

"Yeah. That was my not-straight awakening," I chuckled weakly.

There's silence, where neither of us moves. I lay comfortably on the bed, she sits frozen on the edge of the mattress, and I swear the crickets outside stopped chirping

"...So by 'not straight,' you mean you're bi," Wendy speaks slowly, wrapping her head around the bombshell I just dropped.

Trying to come up with a coherent answer makes me nervous, so I stutter out the first clarification that came to mind.

"I- I thought that meant I like guys. But no. I just like Kyle..."