A.N- Ohisashiburi! Thank you for picking up this story. I am planning to make the chapters in this story short because it's my last school year and the workload is going to be crazy. I might never update again if I make them long.

There might be a lot of flashbacks. Ratings may change in later chapters. (Maybe, just maybe)

"I just wanted to right about a red eyed Kyle!"

Disclaimer: I don't own South Park or any of the characters. Or even the story name (A song by Angus and Julia Stone. It's what motivated me).

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One: What has changed over the last few months.

I walk through the silent corridor, the walls white as a blank canvas. Each step I take echoes through the frozen hall, bouncing off the cold, frozen walls, floor and ceiling. My stomach twists in an uncomfortable way, but over the hundreds of times I've walked through here, I've become able to ignore it.

To the single room at the very far end of the third floor, that is where my feet automatically take me. But I don't mind. Not thinking is a very nice feeling.

My feet stop in front of the door labelled with the number four. My eyes take a second to wonder down to the name printed underneath it. Mr. K. Broflovski. I don't know why I look at it, it's just a routine my body has picked up over the last few months. Then the one last action left, the one that is left manual, the one thing that I wish was automatic. Sliding the door open.

"Hey." A soft voice sings like bells in my ear. My heart twitches slightly at the unexpected voice, but I let out a sigh of relief. Thank god he's still here.

"Kyle," I gasp under my smile. It's a hard and heavy smile, but it's a smile nonetheless. Hearing his voice always makes the blood inside me flow. I slide the door shut behind me and take a good look of the boy before moving towards him. No more automatic movements. I have to tell my body to do everything; I have to control it. I can't ask my mouth, my feet or my hands to move automatically and leave my brain numb.

He sits there on his bed in the small empty room, coated, covered, drowned in white. White sheets, white walls, white ceiling, white floor, even the forest seen through the large window is dyed white with snow. But Kyle, his hair is like a fire burning in that snow, framing his perfect face. His small, pale, white-as-death face… My heart twitches again and I bite down. I take in his eyes, his emerald eyes, glowing in the white more so than the stone itself could ever shine.

"Are you alright to be up like that?" I point out to his posture, sinking my hands deeply into my jacket pockets. He's not lying down, his back leans into the pillows stuck up against the wall, with a book in his hands. I imagine those thin fingers shake as they turn each page of the book. He gives me a weak smile noticing my furrowed eyebrows. I just said that I control every part of my body in this room, but that's a lie. There are always things you can't control.

"Yeah" His eyes narrow with his smile troublingly. "I feel especially good today."

My knuckles unconsciously clench into tight fists against my stomach. Especially good… That's what kids say when they run extra fast in a relay, or when they hit a homerun in baseball. Not when they are able sit up and hold a book in their own hands without assistance.

"That's good." But I squeeze out a smile. Because he's smiling, he's breathing, and that's enough for now.

"So what was up today?" He asks as I walk towards his bed and take my usual seat next to the bed. It's our daily routine. I come here after school and practically tell him my whole schedule, and our friends'. And today is no different. I tell him every small detail, as boring as it is just remembering them, from Cartman's extra loud burp in the middle of class to the new colour of the nurse's lipstick.

"What happened, are you okay?" He jumps, and I just remember how fast his brain works. Damn, I shouldn't talk about the nurse.

"Yeah it was nothing. Just a bruise in the shoulder." I give him a reassuring smile. He sighs a frown, but sinks back into his pillows. This is how it always goes. How paranoid he's become towards my injuries or any kinds of sickness, it's not only once or twice that I considered quitting football.

"Kyle maybe I should quit-"

"How many times do I have to tell you Stan?" He cuts into the words I didn't notice I was spilling. I look up and meet his eyes, not narrowing in a smile but in a glare. "Don't stop anything for me" He finishes with his usual words. I smile to myself, and it's unbelievingly painful.

"Yeah, I know…"

I stand up at the end of the visiting hours, leaving Kyle a few more words to let him chuckle to.

"Hey Stan…" My feet stop on the way out the door, knowing that he'll stop me to say those ridiculous words he always sends me off with. "Tell Wendy I said 'hi'?" But he knows my answer, because I say it everyday.

"I won't"

The door shuts behind me with a soft click. It's the sound that reminds me that I can't see him for another whole day. I hate that noise. I always hear it with the same gut-twisting feeling I get after rejecting his wish. But he must know how painful that wish is to me. After all he did to me, after all she did… I can't talk to Wendy for him…

The journey out the hospital is just as empty and hollow as the journey in, with all the sounds echoing inside me. All I do now is wait for tomorrow.

x

"Hi Stan." A soft voice calls behind me. My hand pauses on my locker door and I cross my eyes in frustration.

"Wendy…" I say quietly, trying to hold in the heavy, spiky feeling in the pit of my stomach. But my hand slams the locker shut, loudly, without my permission, making the girl behind me jolt. Well, it would be the least she is expecting from me. I let out a sigh. "What do you want?"

She rubs her fingers together nervously, her words clearly stuck at the bottom of her throat. I've grown used to her shy attitude around me over the last few months, but I can't help but tighten my fist against my locker, praying for her to be more quick and straightforward. Just so I can walk away from her.

"You… went to see Kyle yesterday, right?" She asks finally.

"Yeah." Something heavy squeezes my chest but I ignore it. I wasn't expecting anything better from her anyway. "I go there everyday." I add on, hoping she'll leave me alone now. She reacts to the words with a slight twitch and mutters a small "Oh…" But I don't feel her walk away.

"So… How is he?"

My tight fist explodes into the locker, making Wendy jump with a shudder and silencing the whole corridor.

"You say that to me?" I spit at her. The muscles in my arm chuckle against the screaming locker while threatening that my fist would break through the cheap wood. "Don't you act like you care Wendy. Don't you act like you give a shit."

It's me that walks away from her, leaving her no time to stop me. I see her squeezing her arm as if desperate to hold in something. But I'm not in the mood to stop and ask her what it is kindly. Not now. Probably not ever.

x

The snow begins to settle to a soft sprinkle, sinking into my showered hair, the bus stop sign, and into the spiky fur of the poor boy's hood standing next to me.

I close my eyes tightly at the sudden noise of an exploding sneeze. A groan bubbles at the back of my throat as the sound of ugly sniffling enters my ears.

"Kenny, are you okay?" I ask the guy trying to keep his snot up his nose.

"Yeah dude, I'm fine." He answers with a shaky voice, wiping the tip of his nose with his ragged orange sleeve. "Just a cold" He adds.

"Make sure you don't give it to Kyle" I reassure him, tightly.

"Yeah, I know. Don't want him dying any earlier"

My hand shoots for the collar of his jacket, and I open my mouth to shout at him, but my words drown in the bottom of my throat when the bright lights of a bus shine into my face.

"Come on Stan, let's go." Kenny's voice unties my fingers off his jacket and drags my feet toward the bus. I lose myself in his voice, in his words and in his face. I notice the dullness of the blue in his eyes, the lifelessness of his blond eyelashes, the stiffness of his lips. Even as he says a repulsing joke that doesn't change, and even as I entwine my fingers around his collar that doesn't change.

Visiting Kyle has become one of Kenny's least favourite events. And this insensitive doll is what he changes into everyday I pull him to the hospital. But those days have reduced to the minimal amount over the last few months.

We take the two seats at the very back of the bus. They have become our usual seats on the way to the hospital.

"Is Cartman coming?" I ask the silent blond.

"Nah. He said that he's seen enough of the Jew that would last him a lifetime." He mumbles, staring out the dark viewless window. "He'll probably visit in his own time"

"Yeah. I know."

We used to visit Kyle all together everyday. But now it's lucky if either of them turn up once a week. But by the way Kyle never asks about Cartman tells me that Cartman visiting him isn't a rare event, unlike Kenny's visits.

We enter the small room on the end of the third floor of the hospital, but we're welcomed in by silence. It seems like Kyle's asleep again. I see a small sigh leak out of Kenny.

"Hey Kyle," I say to the sleeping boy. I always talk to him in his sleep; even with Kenny here that doesn't change. "Guess who I brought with me."

Even though Kyle's breaths are even in his sleep, Kenny turns stiff, nervous from guilt to be near him.

"Stan?" A weak voice calls up to me. It brings my mind out of my thought and onto the emerald eyes of the boy lying in his white sheets. Kyle gives me a small smile and pulls himself up into a sitting position.

"You should stay down Kyle." I advise him, but he shakes his head in disagreement.

"No way. Kenny's here." He looks at the poor boy dressed in orange leaning against the pale wall, blocking himself with his arms crossed around his chest. But Kyle gives him a warm smile, a smile that shows his pure happiness to be seeing the boy. "It's good to see you, Ken."

Kenny chuckles weakly, shaking under his crossed arms. "Yeah. You too."

Kyle returns a chuckle to him, which slowly builds into laughter, a rare sound like an angel's song. It drags me in with him, even Kenny breathes out a laugh of relief. But Kyle's bright laughter suddenly turns into harsh coughs, bringing us into an instant stop.

"Kyle!" I shout, panicking under his aggressive coughing.

"I'm okay" He squeezes through his blocked throat. But his hands over his mouth suddenly shoot to his stomach, curling around his skinny waist and digging his fingers deep into his skin. He curls his body into a ball, holding his scrunched-up face against his knees, desperate to hold in a screech of pain.

"Kyle, what's wrong? What should we do!" I shoot Kenny a glance but he seems to be frozen on his spot in shock. "Nurse," I gasp, but a hand grasps my sleeve, stopping me from calling anyone.

"Don't" Kyle squeezes with a vanishing voice, his body still in ball, rocking slightly, but with his hand firmly gripping onto me. "It's nothing." His painful voice only stirs my worry to a limit, but his grip, desperate, leaves me frozen on the spot.

He calms down after a few mind-crushingly long moments. The strength in his body flowing away, sinking his back into the pillows, but his hand still holds my sleeve.

On the other hand, Kenny and I are still tensed from shock, afraid that his pain might suddenly come again.

"Sorry, did I scare you guys?" He smiles troublingly, noticing our frozen stances. Even after such pain, he's worried about us. "It's nothing really. It happens sometimes. Especially recently…" His last two words nearly vanish under his breath, but I heard it. And Kenny did too.

The hand around my jacket tightens its grip, catching my attention.

"Stan, I…" Kyle whispers. "I think…" I stop my breath and hear carefully for what he has to say. But after a second, all that follows is a heavy sigh. "Nothing…"

A heavy silence comes between us and occupies us for the rest of the visit. I don't notice how fast the time goes even without conversation until the nurse comes to tell us that visiting hours are over.

"Stan? Can you tell Wendy I said 'Hi'?"

"…No"

I close the door after our usual routine.

"Does he still ask you that?" Kenny says as we walk down the white hospital corridor.

"Yeah" I answer. "Every day."

He chuckles heavily beside me.

"It's funny. We're the ones meant to be cheering him up, but we end up being cheered up by him."

"…Yeah"

x

We let our bodies fall into the white snow of the hill behind the bus stop at the end of town. The falling snow tickles my nose and eyelashes as it melts on my open face. But there is one thing that I can't get my mind off, something that makes the tickling snow seem like nothing.

"What was he about to say?" I mutter under my breath.

"Who?" Kenny asks, sitting up and looking into my face. I let out a sigh, not expecting him to have heard me.

"Kyle." I answer him, nonetheless. "He tried to say something."

Kenny's eyebrows twitches into frown and he looks away.

"He was probably gonna say that he thinks his time is up, and that he's gonna die soon."

My body swings up into the air and I tackle Kenny by his hood with the force. How can he still be joking around like that? Insensitive bastard.

"I swear to god you should shut your mouth McCormick or you'll find out how hard it is to chew on frozen waffles with no teeth!" He sways under my shaking grip with his eyes fixed dully on the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. It stirs my anger even more. "You don't even have the guts to face him."

"Who's the one not facing him…" He mumbles weakly under my grip. But before I can fully process his words he swings a glare at me, gripping onto my hand around his jacket. "You're the one who hasn't accepted the fact that Kyle's gonna die! After all these months, seeing him go weak every day! After all that, you still believe that Kyle's gonna live! But you know what, Marsh? He isn't. He's been diagnosed with a terminal illness. I know. I've been there, done that, bought the t-shirt. And you know what it says on the t-shirt? 'Death is definite'!"

He ends, panting, using up all this breath to shout out every single knot in his stomach.

"Fuck!" He gasps when his eyes begin to water. He falls back onto the snow, sliding out of my limp hand. But I don't protest; I've lost my strength and my voice. I haven't seen Kenny cry in years.

He rests his arm over his eyes, trying to cool himself down. I don't say anything, I don't even move. I can't help but stare at him. I've never thought how Kenny, or how any of the other were feeling over these few months. I guess I'm paying for that now. It makes me hate myself for saying this but, maybe, I've been forgetting that other people have feelings too.

We sit in the snow in silence for a few deep breaths, Kenny trying to relax and me waiting for him to feel comfortable. The snow keeps on falling, turning our surroundings into a monochrome night. We breathe out white air that dances into the dark, reminding us that we're still alive.

"Death was always standing side-by-side with me. It was so close to me that it made me think that death was a foreign matter" Kenny breaks the silence, not removing his arm from his eyes. "I didn't think that death would be so frightening. Not this frightening."

"Death is always frightening." But Kenny's right. Never this frightening…

"I have so many lives to spare… So why can't I give even one of them to Kyle?"

Kenny loses his calmness; the white air around him trembles. His body begins to shake aggressively, tears slide from under his arm hiding his eyes, tears of vexation and guilt. Guilt, from not visiting him as frequently as he thinks he should. Guilt, from not facing his dying body everyday like I do.

I wonder how I do it. Seeing Kyle weaken with every day that passes. I guess, I just can't miss a day without seeing him. No matter how pale his face turns, or how skinny his fingers become, I just want to be with him. I guess in the end, Kenny's right. I'm the one not facing Kyle's death.

x

Yesterday Kyle didn't wake up for the whole visit so I was aching all day today for school to end. The second the school bell announces the end of the day, I rush for the bus stop, thanking all goodness that I don't have training today.

"Kyle!" I sing, bouncing into his room. I breathe out a sigh of relief when I hear a soft chuckle welcome me in.

"Hey Stan." He smiles, but when I take my usual seat by his bed I notice another person standing on the other side, between the bed and the window.

"Hey Cartman." I say to the frowning opponent. He nods, or more like bounces his head, clearly annoyed at the fact I found him visiting Kyle.

I end my greeting with Cartman and look down at Kyle, to find his thick, pointy lips fall into a pout. "Why didn't you wake me up yesterday?"

I can't help but melt my lips into a smile at his words. I was expecting he'd say something like that. "You were sleeping."

"Yeah, that's why you're meant to wake me up, doucheward."

"You need your rest."

"I rest all day so that I can wake up for visiting hours…" He mumbles, making me smile again.

"It's Christmas soon isn't it?" He suddenly says.

"Yeah." I wonder why he cares about Christmas.

"Are you gonna go see your relatives?" He asks, assuming the answer. But I don't give it to him.

"No"

His lips drop into an instant frown. "Why not? You always do!"

"I- …don't feel like it this year. My parents already said that it's okay if I don't go." The air around us freezes as he grips his fingers around his bed sheets.

"You should go…" He whispers. I cross my eyebrows in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because it's what you always do!" He drowns his voice under a vicious cough. The painful sound makes me hate myself, because I can't do anything but sit there and watch, stroking his back gently until he calms down.

"Dude, I can't go anywhere. Not while you're like this." His cough slowly dies down into a calm silence. Not saying anything back to my words. I let my hand stroke his back for a second more, letting the warmth of his skin sink into my hand. Feeling his life.

We fall into a deep silence; maybe this is another routine. We sit there, without words, just feeling each other's presence. Until Kyle breaks the silence.

"Can you hold my hand?"

I almost dislocate my head swinging it up too fast. But he looks out the window, avoiding my gaze. Then I look back down, eyeing his hand that waits, shaking in its spot.

"Can I, hold your hand?" I ask him back.

"Yeah"

I don't ask a second time, just in case he changes his mind. My hand drops onto his, entwining our fingers together, desperate to warm his up; they're too cold for my liking.

"Stan, listen to me" He says, squeezing my hand tightly. "Remember how I tried to tell you something the other day?"

I remember it clearly.

"Well, I was trying to say…that" His hand shakes in my grip, even as I grip it as hard as I can.

"What is it?" My pulse begins to pump in my ears and Kenny's bad joke swifts through my head like a cold wind.

"I can feel it coming Stan…" His voice is heavy and firm, but soft at the same time. "I don't think I have much time left."

I can feel my eyes slowly begin to widen to the point that I feel cold air squeeze through my sockets. His voice repeats in my head like a broken record, my mind denying the meaning of the words. I don't notice his hand being crushed by my grip until his eye twitches in pain.

"No…" My voice shakes. "Don't say that Kyle, not you. You won't die, you can't die"

His face scrunches up in pain from my words. I know that what I'm saying is cruel, but I can't stop my mouth from moving. I fall to my knees, pressing my head against the sheets and holding his hand in mine, begging for him not to say those brutal words. Repeating the words 'Can't die' under my breath pathetically, I hurt him with each time I say them. My words turn into daggers and attack him, trying to rip off the part of him that is ready to die.

But deep down, I know that he's going to die. There's nothing I can do to stop him. I just don't want to accept the part of me that knows he will.

"I should probably go soon" I finally say, letting his hand slip out of my grip. My knees have turned numb from kneeling down for too long. But then again, my whole body feels numb, especially my head.

"Stan,"

"I won't…" I interrupt him as I slide the door open. "I won't say hi to Wendy."

When I turn back to face him, his emerald eyes are gazing hopelessly at me.

"Kyle, I don't love Wendy anymore. The only person I want to be with is you."

The door slides quietly to a close, parting us for another day. Everything inside me nearly bursts from frustration and self-hate, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to hold all of it in.

I suddenly feel another presence next to me and I notice that I had completely forgotten the existence of Eric Cartman.

"Why were you so silent today?" I ask the still-frowning Cartman.

"Just trying to hold my barf in watching you two faggots." He spits back.

A sigh escapes my mouth and I follow his fast feet heading out the hospital. I don't know, but he seems more pissed than usual. My feet wobble under me from exhaustion, struggling to keep up with Cartman's fast pace. I didn't even know that he could walk this fast.

White breath releases into the air the second we exit the building and Cartman finally comes to a stop.

"'Apparently people have two deaths. First, our own death, and then the second when we're forgotten by someone dear. If so, then I would never have a second death. Because he will never forget me, and I will live in him forever.'" I freeze at Cartman's sudden words, and look blankly at him who only gives me an irritated stare. "That's what Kyle told me. You know who he means, right?"

Kyle's weak smile flashes in my head. "Huh?"

He sighs in frustration and starts walking again, heading towards the near bus stop. He refuses to look at me even after we arrive at the stop, like he's sick of even looking at me.

"It's a phrase from a book apparently. I don't know where it came from."

The silence that follows is so heavy and dense that I almost choke on it. I get desperate to fill it in.

"You visit him a lot don't you?"

"Not as much as you, fag." He snarls. "But don't get me wrong. I only visit him because I wanna see him cry, beg for his life. But man, that little Jew is tough. I haven't seen him shed a tear yet."

I notice him staring at me, and I accidently meet his piercing eye.

"But the closest I've ever come to, is today. Dude, you can really say things that make his insides shatter like glass." He looks at me with complete hate, like he's ready to bang my head against the concrete, but he's just too tired to do it.

"What do you mean-"

"I mean you only think about yourself. You won't even enjoy the last moments of his life accepting the fact that they would be the last moments of his life. Accept it Marsh, and enjoy it. You owe the Jew that much."

His eyes drop shamefully, irritated towards himself for saying that to me. For him to say something like that must've taken up his whole pride. It must have been something that was building up in him agonisingly. I never knew.

"You've changed…" I gulp.

"No. You just haven't progressed." He grumbles back.

Everyone has changed over the past few months. Even me. My attitudes, behaviours and lifestyle have all changed no matter how small and unnoticeable it is. But Cartman's right, not in a progressive way.

The bus arrives, brushing past the quick snow. Suddenly, Kyle's hurt face appears at the back of my eyes, making his pain inflict onto me.

Why does everything I say hurt him? And why would I rather be with him saying those things, knowing that they'll hurt him? But Kyle, I just can't help it. Even if I hurt you from time to time, I want to feel your presence. Is that such a cruel thing?

x

"Stan, we should stop it." The crickets made his voice disappear under their loud singing, but his actions led me to a stop. He let his hand slip out of my grip as he froze his feet on the ground. He stood limp on the bank of the lake, his red curls hung as a curtain over his eyes.

"Kyle? Stop what?" I asked him lightly, not expecting anything serious.

"This!" He nearly shouted. "Sneaking out at night, holding hands, kissing, touching, everything!"

The words made him go out of breath, tears began to build up in his emerald eyes, shining off the bright moonlight. My brain stopped working for that small second, and I wish that I didn't ask the next question that I asked without thinking.

"You mean you want to break up?"

He glared at the ground and squeezed his arm, refusing to meet my eye.

"Yes."

His one word shocked the breath and voice out of me, only managing to let me squeeze out a small "Why?"

"Because…" He seemed like he was feeling physical pain from saying each word. Like each word was said by squeezing his throat against a fruit squeezer.

The brain-banging sound of crickets suddenly went to a complete silence. It made me believe for that moment that the time had stopped, and that we were the only two people on the planet, completely alone. And then he said it.

"Stan… I'm sick."

Maybe my time had really stopped that day of five months ago.

A.N- Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think, it would motivate me so much. And, man, I have no idea what genre this story is.

BGM: Gekkou by Onitsuka Chihiro (orugoru ver.)