Hello, everyone. I know it's been a bit since I've updated, but I've been busy with so much. I have a job interview in a few days and I've been looking into stuff about my future. I graduated high school in 2015 and took time off to figure out what I wanted to do.

Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this and give me nice reviews on the way out.

Summary: Kyle doesn't like alcohol. Stan likes it even less. Pete and Firkle detest that shit.

Kyle is sixteen when he first catches Ike sneaking alcohol into his bedroom. He's had problems with Ike before, however, alcohol was never something that had crossed his mind as a possible outcome. He couldn't find it in himself to tell his parents. It just sounded like something that would break his mother's heart.

He did what he could to stop him, though. He searched his brother's room often enough when Ike was still at school. That seemed to be successful for a few weeks. But at that point, Ike figured out that he could just hide his drinks in other places. Kyle had a more difficult time putting a pin in Ike's issue.

"Lay off, Kyle! You're messing with my shit, man!"

It was like those damn pills all over again when Ike was in elementary school. His mood swings were erratic and his tastes in hobbies were less than commendable. His old friends stopped coming around a long time ago and Kyle couldn't say he blamed them.

Stan had told Kyle to just tell their parents, it'd be easier and more effective than tackling the Canadian brat on his own. Now, Stan has always been close to the Broflovski family. However, sugarcoating what a bastard Ike had been wouldn't have done anyone any justice.

Ike never appreciated what Kyle did for him at that point in their lives. No matter the attempts to hide how awful he was becoming from their parents, Ike only saw him as a 'nark'.

Word wasn't silent among the adolescence about Ike. The young Jewish boy that doubled as an alcoholic with a desire to lose his virginity early-yeah, life doesn't ever seem fair for Kyle, a teenager that wants to protect his brother.

Was that part not mentioned before? It wasn't every day that Eric Cartman comes up to you and laughs in your face about how Ike was caught with his pants down in the back of his middle school.

It took all the redheaded jew had in him to not cry out in relief when the school called home about said incident. All anyone had to say about it was that Ike was young and needed a proper conversation on sex. However, the main problem still remained. What to do about Ike.

It was at that point when Pete decided to intervene. Although Pete had been on good terms with Kyle since he came into his life, they weren't ever exactly considered good friends. In fact, the action he had taken surprised Kyle; it surprised his whole family.

Shock wasn't all that went around. Anger came with it. Anger from Kyle toward Pete since he went behind his back. Anger from his father for not noticing. But, worst of all, anger from his mother from keeping everything in the dark.

Pete told their parents.

The very night everything came to light, chaos broke free in the Broflovski household. The shouting could be heard all over the street. Some had gathered on the sidewalk to listen in and others had the audacity to carefully look through the windows.

Ike had a fit at the outcome. He kicked, screamed and shouted the loudest, astounding Sheila and Gerald. Their little genius wasn't an angel, nor was he a boy of common sense; forget morality.

By morning, Kyle had locked himself in his bedroom, unable to take it anymore. Ike was grounded, for how long, no one could say. Maybe not even after his act were cleaned up would he be trusted immediately again. His father checked each room in the house, including Kyle's for alcohol and liquor, before chucking everything out. Bottles upon bottles forced their trashcans to smell like a cheap bar, while the sink took the brunt of needing to be cleaned and sprayed down due to the smell of gallons of Ike's shame went poured down the drain.

School was awkward at best for a description. Kyle received talks and pitying glances from his teachers and guidance counselor. But nothing hurt more than the look of indifference on Pete's face the moment they crossed paths.

"Why did you do it?"

The question hung in the air as they stood across from each other in the schools hallway. Pete didn't need to think on his answer, the bastard.

"Were you going to?" That, that right there sets him off.

"You didn't have the right to do that! Ike is gonna go through hell, now!" Kyle shouted. Despite a slight wince from the volume, Pete didn't seem to care.

"Kyle, you're brother in an alcoholic, among other things." The blunt way he put it wasn't helping his case. Firkle came up behind Kyle, crossing over to Pete.

"What's going on?" His voice sounded out of place in a high school, but, just like Ike, Firkle himself was also a genius, much to the shock of all those around him, excluding the goths and Stan. The only difference between the two of them was that Firkle, again to shock of others, worked hard enough with ease. So much so that he was allowed to skip grades, with no backlash.

"Absolutely nothing!" Turning his back on them both, Kyle made his way to class. He passed by students and teachers that clearly heard the news of the fight between his family and while some students snickered and pointed, he ignored the teachers wanting to ask if he were alright even harder than anything else.

When he met up with him two classes later, Stan told him to cut Pete some slack, having heard from the goth what occurred earlier.

"I mean, if anything, he did do Ike a favor. He isn't gonna get better without people in his life cracking down on him," and Kyle hates him in that moment for being right; for being right and not being on his side.

Kyle is exhausted by the time school is over, shoulders sagging and eyes drooping. When he walks out the front, double-doors, Pete is there, sitting off to the side on front railing.

"Hey," the redhead starts. There was a cigarette hanging from his lips, half finished. Half the student body had cleared out, his friends already on their way home.

"What do you want?"

Shifting his feet, Pete readjusted himself on the railing.

"My dad is an alcoholic," he started off, surprising Kyle. Shuffling over, Kyle slowly came to stand next to him, keeping his eyes averted. Having thought about it, Kyle never heard Pete mention his father. Or anyone, for that matter.

"I live in a trailer in a decent park for free cause the landowner feels sorry for me. I have a job at my age to pay for food, electricity, and things that I want all on my own. No one in this town ever knew where my mother ended up and never asked when my dad stopped appearing in town. Although, everyone that was a parent seemed to love talking about his trips to the bar and his misgivings."

Kyle stood through all of that, eyes wide and shoulders slumped.

"Why are you telling me this? Does it get easier?"

Puffing out smoke, Pete shrugged, "Depends on the situation, I guess."

Kyle leaned back with Pete, disbelief having weighed heavily with him.

"What was it like, living with your dad? I mean."

"You have it easier."