A.N- New multi-chap! I'll try and shut up in my as much as I can in this one. This is going to be eventual K2 but Kenny won't come out for a while (I have written up to chapter 4 and Kenny won't be coming until at least 6, I'm so excited!). …I'm really nervous publishing this now…

Disclaimer- I don't own the characters.

Warning- Rated M for later chapters: N/C, language, sex, themes… I'll warn you when it comes.

Hope you enjoy~


Blue Days

The piercing sound of a whistle announced the time for my departure and in any second, the doors would close in between us.

The frozen air soaring through the open doors pierced my skin and made my scars throb underneath my baggy coat.

But the snow was gentle and soft that day, it felt like feathers brushing my cheeks. It was a nice feeling. Those days I was craving for any form of gentleness.

And then there he was: the last gentle thing. He slid something out of his bag, something rectangular and heavy. His lips parted ever so slightly, only to shut before any words could come out. But then he parted them again.

'Kyle, I-'

It became the last thing he gave me, before the doors shut on him; the continuous beeping was our count down.

He gave it to me, although it turned out incomplete.

On the other side of the doors, on the other side of the glass, he pressed his hand onto the frozen surface, the beeping still in our ears. His lips moved again, and then this time, I could hear it and it made me smile.

I outstretched my own hand, slightly smaller and paler, and placed it on top of his, divided by the glass. But I thought I could feel his warmth. The gentleness. The train moved, and it disappeared. But it was still there. It came with me.

Another thing that came with me, weighing my arm down along with all my bags in attempt to pull my arm out of its socket, was a book. I forced it, with great difficulty, into one of my bags before moving to my seat. I didn't plan to look at it until I arrived at my new home.

With my thin arms hiding under my baggy jacket, I struggled to put my bag into the over-head shelf. Someone, a fairly built man with greasy hair and spiky whiskers, offered a hand and slid my bag in its place for me. There, another kindness. It was embarrassing, but I appreciated it.

'Thank you,' I said quickly with a tensed smile. I had to get used to that word.

My seat was by the window. The view had already turned into speed-lines by the time I sat down. The station was already in the distance, impossible to make out any details. But I swear I saw him still standing there.

I didn't feel sorrow as the station merged into the horizon. No tears began to well up or anything.

Maybe it was because I was waiting for this moment forever. To say goodbye to every single fucking thing that made up and dictated the eighteen years of my life.

Or maybe it was because I knew that the only person I would possibly miss was the one person I knew I was going to see again. Some day. I knew it. And until that day…

I moved my lips into a small 'goodbye' and leaned my forehead against the ice-cold window. Letting the cold cool my head. It suddenly felt hot, and it was like my brain had turned into a sharp heavy stone rattling and grinding against my skull.

I closed my eyes and tried hard not to remember what I had been through. To forget about the three main people that had changed my life. Well, changed what I would come to call my youth, at least. And yeah, consequently, my life, I guess.

It would take me longer to be able to have dreamless sleeps.

And now, they were covered in snow. Heavy, sharp, piercing snow. Fall on me gently, just like acid.

.

.

.

Chapter One: Blue Besties

Best friends can't last forever. I know this, because I've seen best friends break apart before my eyes.

When I was in elementary I had three best friends, the four of us could not be separated. But when one separated, as if he was a pillar, the rest of us just collapsed to the ground and slowly drifted apart from each other.

But before I get into that let me just wake up, in the present time of this story. When I'm still in the bright days of high school living day-by-day. Well, the brightest of the days at least, in hindsight. While I was still oblivious, ignorant and fairly happy.

Let the blind little me just wake up and soak in the new Monday morning sun that pierces your eyes to welcome you into the new school week ahead.

'Wake up Kyle! You're going to be late for school bubbe!'

I lifted my mouth from the pillow just enough to shout, 'I'm awake ma!'

Half lie, half true.

Monday mornings are the worst. I didn't hate school yet, but it still didn't stop me from despising the mornings.

At least I wasn't a girl. Getting ready for me meant splashing water over my face, brushing my teeth, digging myself through layers of random clothes and maybe stuffing a piece of fruit or bread in my mouth on the way out if I had the time. Fifteen minutes tops, with a drowsy mind.

Autumn was cooling down, getting ready for the end and to merge into winter. I kicked my heels on the asphalt, trying to keep myself warm as I rushed to the bus stop.

Today he was there, on top of that, before me for a change. The figure with straight brown hair, light hazel eyes almost like smoke, and a large body made of armour.

'Hey fatass.'

'Sup Jew.'

That was our greeting, between Eric and me. Eric Theodore Cartman, the fatass of the town. Being protected from the cold with 200 pounds wrapped around him.

Now before you say 'Half of that looks more like muscle than fat', believe me when I say this, but all that was once fat. Some of it just turned into muscle when he picked up sports and proper diet (you're meant to laugh there). But fatass was his label. He would always be the signature fatass of the town.

The only thing is, is that he didn't care being called a fatass now. Maybe because he knew that it was only half true. And about the same time the venom put into the word "Jew" from his anti-Semitic mouth had moulded into something more like a nickname. Like me calling him a fatass, he would call me a Jew. And I didn't mind being called that now either.

'Why aren't you at morning training?'

'Meh. Slept in.' That was him. And that was why that last half of his body was still blubbery fat.

We stood side-by-side at the old school bus stop. The bus stop we've been waiting at for over ten years of our lives was decorated beautifully with fallen leaves. They cracked under my feet like the cackling of pop candy in my mouth as I kicked them around. It was hard to say how much we had changed over the years. It seemed like we haven't had changed at all.

Well, one clear change was, the number of us waiting at the bus stop. It was two today, but normally it was just one: me. Three down, one to go.

'Come on Eric, are you coming or not!' I twisted and called out to the dazed brunet staring blankly at my back. He shook his head to life and smirked, following right behind me into the bus.

'Morning Butters.' Eric grinned at the blond boy sitting alone as we took our seats behind him. In response, Butters jumped, shoulders tensing into a straight plank, and he jittered his nervous eyes to face us.

'He-heya Kyle, Eric...'

I smiled at him and scrunched his spiky blond hair friendlily. The guy really needed more confidence. He would brush his sleeve against someone and won't forgive himself until he apologised his lungs out.

If only I had paid more attention, I would've noticed that he wasn't always like that. That in some point in time that is what he had become. If I had paid attention, could much have changed for my high school life? Maybe? No. Probably not.

No one else noticed either though. No one hardly ever notices the change in others, especially when it matters most. And they probably never will.

Butters wasn't a tiny shrimp, or a fucking twig, well, he wasn't short or skinny at all really. He had a good finger length on me and his round cheeks were tempting to poke. But maybe that was it. That round softness about him maybe made him look, I don't know, weaker than he actually was. The baby blue that he wore didn't help him look any more bulky either. But I knew he was tall. It's hard to ignore it when our eyes are clearly not level.

And I wasn't that short either. My twig-like frame just made me look that way, like Butter's roundness affected him.

I stared out the window, not paying attention as Eric leaned forward to whisper into the blonde's ear in front of us. Butters jolted though, at whatever the fatass said, to which I smacked Eric and told him to stop teasing Butters. But he only chuckled amusingly and sank back into his spot next to me. I went back to looking out the window until we reached school.

'Quick! The fucking bus is late again!' I puffed as I quickly rolled out of the bus, hearing the morning school bell go. Butters danced his clumsy legs behind me as Eric cursed under his breath.

'As if it matters if we're late! It's all the bus's fucking fault!'

But I ignored his whining and moved my thin legs inside my baggy pants. Everything I wore seemed to be baggy. Well, I guess that's what you get when you trust your mum for clothes shopping. At least I didn't care about fashion, which some people might find weird, or unexpected.

I had somehow lost Eric and Butters during my immense speed of running, but I didn't even stop to look back. I pumped the small muscles in my legs to sprint to class before the last bell went.

The only thing that ended up stopping me was the rock of a person turning around the corner, just in perfect time for me to crash into. It was like that time I was forced to play football in sport. I was sent flying to the ground.

'Ah… Sorry,' I mumbled as I rubbed my sore ass. The guy I slammed into was like a concrete wall, I swear. I bounced straight off of him and onto my butt without even making him rock back a couple of steps from the impact.

'Kyle?'

My hand stopped.

That voice…

I looked up, and of course, the guy standing atop of me made of a concrete wall, was my friend, still in his football training gear.

'Hey Stan,' I smiled.

'Hey,' a light smile framed with his warm blue eyes beamed down onto me. 'You should really stop running in the corridors dude. You might kill yourself someday.' He said, lifting me up onto my feet. 'I mean, class and safety? Dude, prioritise.'

'Um, class and safety? Definitely class." I joked, well, not really, and subtly rubbed my hand he had hoisted me up with. The skin was burning already and I was desperate to get rid of it, before the heat could travel to my face.

'Well, you better go dude, if you want to make it to class.' He shook his silky ebon hair out of his eyes to take a better look of me. It was enough to make my stomach shrivel up, so I took it as my cue to leave.

"Oh shit!" I said, and took off.

Stan. Stanley Randall Marsh, training quarterback for the South Park High football team and future captain. Kind-hearted, good-looking, friendly… He would become one of the most popular kids in school, and definitely for all the right reasons. But before that, he was my friend. Before that, once upon a time, he was my Super Best Friend.

Oh, it seemed so long ago.

Now, touching him made my stomach flip and made my skin burn. Don't ask me why. I promise I will tell you later.

I looked back unconsciously before pushing one of the corridor doors open, just in time to see him turn around the corner in the distance.

I was definitely late now. I would just have to go to class with my bag.

.

'Pass the water,' God, why does everyone have to shlout in the cafeteria? Seriously, the only way to communicate in that pit is to shout at the top of your lungs. "Craig! Would You Pass The Friggin' Water, Please?"

Craig Tucker, with his limited amount of attention to the external world, seemed to hear my plea and flicked the metal tin tiredly so it would slowly come sliding my way.

'Thank you.' I said when it finally reached me. More of an annoyed statement than anything when I went to pour my cup, I noticed something next to my plate of pasta: nothing.

'Butters, where's your lunch?'

The blond, who was staring at the stained wooden table with hollow eyes, lifted his tired gaze up to me. 'Huh?'

'Dude, your lunch.' I repeated. 'Didn't your parents give you lunch today?' "Again?" is what I wanted to say.

The poor dude bit on his bottom lip and his eyes shook for a brief second in their sockets, debating whether or not to tell me.

'Yeah.' He finally said, looking back down onto the stain on the table. 'They said I needed ta, ta, lose more weight, ya see?'

'Lose weight? Dude, you're not that fat. Unlike Eric.'

'Ay, asshole!' The fatso leaned forward from the other side of Butters to send me a quick glare before his eyes turned to Butters, a thin smile pulling his lips up. 'Your parents are fucking douchebags dude. You want some of this?' He said, indicating his own plate of pasta.

The offer nearly made the blond jerk in horror. 'No! Ah, thanks Eric.' He mumbled quietly. 'And I wouldn't say that my parents are douchebags...' He quickly sank back into his chair. The horror of taking food from the Eric Cartman would be a fear to us all. Except for me, maybe.

'Whatever you say dude, off-food isn't a healthy diet. Here, have this.' I shoved my half-eaten plate in front of him, although it might have been a little hypocritical. But the cafeteria lady had given me extra that day, and even in the roaring of the cafeteria, I thought I could hear Butters' stomach rumbling.

'You shouldn't be the one giving him food dude.'

'Yeah, Kyle. You need those calories more than any of us.'

I glared at the two guys sitting opposite me, with their trained muscles and developed height.

'Don't think of me on the same level as you football players.' I warned them and gulped some more water down.

'Ah, goddamn it.' One of those players cursed staring down at his phone.

'What Stan?'

'Urgh, just some shit.' He grumbled hiding his phone away and jumping onto his feet. 'Hey, does anybody wanna help me take the student journals to the teacher's office?'

'As if brah,' Eric mumbled through his mouthful of pasta, the sauce and little bits of penne slapping around in his mouth with each chew. Ew.

A second passed and nobody else bothered to even reply. 'Ah, fuck you guys.' Stan waved his hand dismissively and turned to head out the cafeteria.

Somehow, like I did, I couldn't stop staring at his back as he walked away. My legs moved on their own account and in a second, I was right beside him.

'Thanks Kyle,' he smiled when he noticed my presence. 'At least someone has the decency to help around here.'

I shrugged. 'Well, it's better than being around those assholes.'

'Ha! True?'

His clear laugh seemed to echo in my eardrums, over and over again. I loved his laugh. Possibly more than anything. And I couldn't help but love the occasional moments like this when it was just me and him.

We were once called inseparable, attached by the hip. But even such a friendship began to wane over time. We were just so different. But all friendships do fade, I think. It seems like so, especially when it comes to me.

Friendship is like a revolving door. No matter how important they are at one point of time, you can't stop them from going out of that spiral of your life. Well, it's not really impossible, but it's fucking hard as hell. It would be nice to find someone to get stuck in that endless spinning though, I think.

'Is it just these?" I asked him, picking up a notebook from a large pile stacked on a desk in an empty senior classroom.

'Yeah, just those- but you don't have to carry them dude.'

'Might as well.' I picked up a whole stack, wrapping my arms around them securely. 'That's what I came for, wasn't it?'

'Thanks, but-' He slid the notebooks out of my arms, 'I think I'll carry them. Don't want Wendy seeing.'

Wendy…

Watching him struggle on the doorknob with two full hands, I smirked, and turned it open for him. He thanked quickly before continuing.

'If Wendy finds me making you carry this stuff she would be all: "Oh, why would you make him carry that Stan? I'm sure you could've carried that all yourself Stan, why force him do it? You're such a bully Stan, making a friend your personal slave."' He whined with a high-pitched annoying voice coming form the bottom of his nose. 'Nag nag nag nag nag, until she finally ends up making me apologise my heart out to you.'

I forced out a choked chuckle and dropped my eyes to my feet moving step by step forward. The soles of our shoes squeaked against the floor with every step we took.

The second I helped Stan open the door to the teacher's office we were welcomed in by a high-pitched voice, quite different from Stan's impersonation.

'There you are Stan!' The voice shook my brain and sent a heavy rock sink into my stomach. I watched as the stack of books was easily lifted away from Stan and into the arms of the ebon-haired girl. 'Thank you honey.' She said and pecked him on the cheek. I stitched a blank smile onto the corners of my lips.

'Oh, hi Kyle!' She beamed when she turned around to find me standing next to her boyfriend.

'Hey Wendy.'

Wendy Testaburger had silky ebon hair that matched perfectly with Stan's, contrasting magnificently with my nest of bright red curls. Another thing that contrasted from me, were her eyes. Her chocolate-like eyes that sat in the middle of her face would melt along with the warmness of her smile, making it impossible for anyone to keep a frown in front of her. Brown, warm and calming, so different from my vibrant, almost ice-like green irises.

But sometimes those beautiful brown beads of hers would turn into splinters and dig right through you.

Not many people knew that.

I certainly didn't know that.

'I hope Stan didn't forcefully drag you along here, nagging and complaining the whole way.' She continued to talk as she placed the mountain of notebooks on some teacher's desk.

Wendy was one of the nicest people you could ever know. Friendly, caring, popular, but not up herself, and then of course what gave her the extra points: her high academic skills. One thing that kicked the shins of my self-esteem though, if I had any, was the fact that her and I were almost eye-level. No it wasn't me, as I said, I'm not that short. Wendy was just one fucking tall girl (not a giant though), which magically didn't stand out when she stood beside her also-tall, boyfriend. It is just too understandable that she would later become the ace attacker of the girl's lacrosse team.

Too understandable…

I opened my mouth to answer her question, but before any words could come out, a firm arm wrapped around my shoulder and pulled me into the warm wall of muscle.

'No, he wanted to come. Didn't you Kyle?' Stan answered instead of me, looking down into my face with his sparkling blue eyes. It made my tongue stumble for words for a second.

'Ah, eh, yeah, yeah sure.'

He smiled and slid his arm off my shoulder to take a step towards his girlfriend.

'I'll see you later then, babe.'

'Yeah, see you.'

Suddenly forming their own intimate world even if only for an instant, they leaned in towards each other and pressed their lips together lightly. The atmosphere dissolved no more than a second after they parted, but the scene stayed behind my eyelids for a while longer.

When it came to those two, whether it was because of their long history of nearly eight years I don't know, but even words like 'babe' and 'honey' didn't seem like shallow names that hopped off their tongues. They represented what they had built together.

The heavy rock inside my stomach began to sink just a bit deeper.

'Come on Kyle, let's go.'

My feet tangled up slightly as Stan began to pull me out of the office by resting his arm on my shoulder again. I could feel his heat sink into my shoulder blade, making the skin burn underneath my baggy cardigan.

I said I would promise I would tell you later. This might be the right time.

When Stan touched me, my skin glowed from warmth and it would quickly rush to my cheeks. Being alone with him was one of my favourite moments. Seeing him with his girlfriend made a rock drop into the pit of my stomach. I averted my eyes with every time they kissed.

It's pretty obvious, but I can spell it out for you if you want.

I had a crush on my best friend.

No one else knew this, except for that one person. But he was long since gone.

.

Occasionally on Mondays and Thursdays, I would stay back in the library and study. It was still fairly early into our first year so most people thought me strange to be even studying, as opposed to joining clubs or doing sport. But most people just went home to go on endless hours of Facebook or gaming or whatever they did at home. But because I stayed at school and studied, I was a little weird. But the library was a great place with stacks of resources to study with.

It had nothing to do with the fact that Stan finished training earlier those days, I swear. It was just a coincidence that we sometimes ended up going home together.

Around five or half-past or so, most days, I would get a quick message from him saying, 'Finished training. You wanna go home together?' or somewhere along that line, without the spelling or grammar of course.

Somewhere deep down, every time I would wonder whether he would prefer it if I just said no so that he could go home with his teammates. But he had the rest of the week to do that, so my answer was always the same.

'Sure.'

He would be on the steps of the school main entrance, waiting for me as I secretly jogged my way to him.

'You ready?'

'I was the one waiting dude.'

I laughed, and lightly punched him in the shoulder.

All the busses were out by then, so it was a decent walk back home. But it was nice, especially during autumn when the sunset perfectly harmonised with the brown and red leaves fallen on the asphalt.

The only bad thing is that it makes you remember a lot of old memories.

'Wow, hey-' Stan said, with a voice faded under his breath of amazement. 'Check it out.'

I did. A little tilt of the head to the right, then I was flying, or falling, either way I couldn't stop my heart from soaring through the endless red sky. I could feel the scene reflect on my eyes and burn. It was magnificent.

Stark's pond was dyed in the colour of the sunset. The water, a mirror for the sky glowing in all the possible reds, oranges, pinks and purples ever imagined possible. There was sky above, and sky below, and I was in the middle of it. There, along with Stan. It felt as though there was my own little sun in my head, shining and glowing wonderful light out of my shallow eyes.

I believed that that would become one of the most beautiful scenes, one of the most fabulous memories of my whole high-school life. One that I would look back in a couple of decades, sigh, and chuckle at how wonderful my youth was. I really believed that at the time.

We made our way to the bank of the lake, our reflection appearing on the red sky below. My eyes met Stan's on the surface of the water, the unexpected contact startled me and sent me a couple of steps back. My animated legs made him cackle delightfully.

'What was that!' He asked through his laughter.

Your gaze.

'Cramp-' was my choked answer. 'Quick cramp in my toe- nasty bastard.'

His cackling knocked up a level; clear bright laughs filled the air as he held his forehead with one hand and his stomach with the other.

My face began to burn, bright as the sunset, watching his laughs finally begin to quieten as he dropped himself on the ground. A few more laughs, a quick breath and a sigh, then he was done.

I sat next to him on the bank of the lake, measuring the right friendly distance before making myself comfortable.

It was quiet now. The sunset silently burned the white mountains, drowning us into its fantastic landscape.

'It never changes, does it?' I began, not aware of my own cheesy words. 'It feels like I've been seeing this sunset every single day of my life, and it never changes. It never gets old.'

But it does change. I know that now.

Stan blinked blankly at my words, and then released his body into a more comfortable stance, staring up at the sky, finding something in the changing colours.

'Do you remember that time we were playing heroes with a few other kids?' He began. 'We went in and stole all the cats from poor Mrs. Deiner saying that we "had to save all the cats from the crazy old witch!"'

The sudden topic threw me off guard, but the enthusiasm he put into his narration made me shoot a laugh into the air.

Yeah. I remembered that one clearly. The half a dozen meowing cats shared among the six of us, as we carefully took step-by-step towards the front door on her creaky floorboards.

'And remember how it was only so that Kenny could get high off their piss?' He chuckled.

'I remember finding his nearly dead body on the floor of his basement with six cats pouncing around him.'

'Oh yeah, he was high for three days!' Stan burst out laughing, high shocks of laughter zapping my ears. But I couldn't find the amusement in the memory.

'We should've known not to trust him for taking care of the cats.' I mumbled.

'Yeah, but as if we could have ignored the leader's suggestion! He was the greatest superhero of us all!' He was still joking, so I smirked. More amused with his smile, his laughter and his words, and the bit of irony I found in them.

Kenny was not a superhero.

'Oh, God-' Stan finally began to leave the fantasy world of the past and return to reality as his laughter turned into a sigh. 'Whatever happened to that guy?' He sent a soft chuckle into the high sky, tasting the bitter-sweetness of nostalgia in the autumn air.

I looked at him, looked at myself, then looked down.

'I couldn't care less about that bastard…'

The bitterness was filling my mouth, making the surface of my tongue dry and rasp. But I couldn't taste any sweetness anywhere in the air.

What Stan remembered of him was laughter, foul jokes, and the stupid games we did together.

What I remembered of Kenny McCormick was white snow, a confession, and a departure without a goodbye a couple days later.

.

Now, as you might have noticed, I had become used to my own feelings towards my friend Stan. I had even come to enjoy it on some occasions; it was inevitable. Being friends meant friendly skin contact and times alone. Although most of the time I had come to not think of it, the rest of the time was just painful unrequited and disturbing feelings.

But at the beginning, it was just horrible. When I first noticed my own feelings towards my best friend. It felt as though inch-by-inch my insides were rotting from my stomach to my chest, to my throat, and then reach to my eyes and leak out as tears.

I was a big boy that wasn't supposed to cry, but I was also a small boy that wasn't ready to find out his sexual orientation. Confusion, guilt and fear overcame me like a wave of a tsunami, eating me up as if I was a small island. I stayed in bed for nearly a whole school week, turning my best friend away every time he came to visit, saying that I was too sick and didn't want him to catch what I had.

There was one person though, that ignored my warning and barged in at the end of the week. Well, not really barged in, more gently and carefully, but ignored my plea nonetheless.

'Kyle, you can't stay in here for ever.' He said, matter-of-factly. I dug my head deep into my pillow and faked a horrible cough.

There. See how sick I am?

There was a sigh above me, quiet, but what seemed to dig deep into my ears much more than my exaggerated cough.

'Kyle, I care about you dude, but I know I can't drag you out of there.' His voice quietened, almost into a whisper, as if it was not even said to me. 'But I need to talk to you,'

It was turning into a desperate plead, making me tilt my head to the side so that I could hear his voice clearly. But I couldn't understand it. What was that in his voice?

'Kyle please. For me?'

The words bruised me and sank into my heart. It made me leave the bed sheets I had been calling my home and protection for the past week. I was on my two feet, staring into his ice-blue eyes.

He led me out of the room, I followed him out of the house, and we walked together to the frozen water of Stark's Pond. There was no snow in the sky, all fallen to the ground as a rich coat of pure white. The sky was an endless desert of deep blue, and combined with the snow made the perfect colour of the blond boy's eyes.

'What did you want to tell me?' I asked him as we placed ourselves under the white fir tree.

He looked at me, with his transparent eyes that seemed to go on forever. I waited for him patiently, accepting his eyes into my own, but the only response I gained from the stare was a deep sigh.

'Tell me about you first.' He said.

'What about me?'

'What kept you under your sheets for a whole week?'

Our eyes met again, and this time there was smile on his lips, accepting and reassuring, something that felt as though he was reaching out to me. It was so caring, I couldn't face it. I dug my face into my knees, a replacement for my sheets.

'I don't want to tell you.'

'Why not?'

'Because. You'll hate me.' My breath shook. 'Everyone'll hate me.'

There was no answer, even after I waited for a while. Reluctantly, as my eyes were beginning to blur, I looked up, to find that the soft smile on his lips had turned into one firm line, and his eyes strengthened into truth and determination.

'Kyle, I would never, ever, hate you.'

It wasn't a word of comfort, or something he would use to make me spill my mind. It was a vow.

It made me believe that I could trust him, with everything I had.

'Kenny,' I began. My eyes couldn't leave his; my heart was pounding aggressively in my heart, but my pulse was nice and calming. 'I think I'm gay.'

A thin tear escaped my eye and streamed down my cheek, and I dug my face back into my knees, suddenly feeling the familiar shame from the words that had slid out of my mouth.

But I could feel a hand of comfort slowly making it's way to my shoulder. I waited for the warmth, and its reassurance made me continue.

'I think I'm gay for Stan…'

They ended up being my last words to him.

His comforting hand never reached my shoulder. The warmth never came.

I wonder if everything would have been different if I hadn't have said those words. Maybe he would have still been here and best friends would have remained as best friends.

But no.

A couple of days later, without a word to anyone, Kenny and his family left their home on the other side of the train tracks. They didn't leave any goodbyes or even a note to say where they were going. What they did leave, were the remains of their slum of a home, stupid old memories, and a feeling of betrayal deep inside my chest.

I wonder if that was the beginning of everything.

How I would end up hating my high school days, hating everyone, hating myself.

How I would end up waiting for the train with gentle snow cooling my scars four years later.

How I would end up here.


A.N- Thanks for reading. Sorry nothing happened. It was more of an intro wasn't it?

Please tell me if you liked it, disliked it, felt nothing or want an update-